


Fangtasia Stories

by Honeypop



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 104,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeypop/pseuds/Honeypop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered what happens behind closed doors at Fangtasia? This is a fun look at all the Eric and Pam moments we never got to find out about or witness in the books! Spoilers through all books, including DR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mainstreaming Is For Pussies

**Author's Note:**

> All rights to the Southern Vampire Mysteries belong to the wonderful Charlaine Harris. I am merely playing with her characters for my own amusement! I own nothing, apart from a rather cool sombrero, a novelty pencil sharpener, flip flops and a wok.
> 
> This fic was beta'd by the awesomesauce RubySun03. Thanks for your help, Stacers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Dead Until Dark, at some point after Sookie and Bill first visit Fangtasia.

“To the left a bit, Pam. Forward. Back a bit. Stop. Right a bit more. More.”

Pam shifted Eric's throne one last time before upturning it and striding over with super-quick speed to sit opposite him in his booth. The bar wasn't yet open, and Eric was tapping away on his laptop. He hadn't actually been looking while Pam was moving the huge wooden chair. He cast a brief glance over at it.

“No, that's still not quite right. It needs to be at a 74 degree angle.”

“Angle shmangle. Get someone else to do it. We need to talk.”

Eric didn't look at her and kept typing. “You are very uptight this evening. What is it?”

“Some more money's gone missing. $25,000 more in fact.”

Eric stopped abruptly and looked up. 

“How? Over what period?”

“The last month. That makes sixty, in total. Whoever's doing this is getting greedier. It's too large an amount to be coming straight out of the cash registers. Someone has access to the safe somehow, or our accounts, or both. It's getting out of hand. We need to get to the bottom of it.”

Eric leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together in thought.

“Yes. Indeed we do. Do we have any likely suspects yet?”

“The staff are all stupid, but not that stupid. None of them would dare.”

Eric pursed his lips in deep thought.

“Perhaps not. But then who?” He cocked a mock-accusatory eyebrow at her. “If you required more fancy shoes, Pam, you only needed to ask.”

Pam just stared back at him. “What do you want to do about it?”

He ran a hand through his hair and slouched back in his seat. “Change our account codes and passwords again, and the safe code, as well. Only you and I will have access this time. Check up on our accountant and inform the bank we may have had a security breach on our account.”

“Should I speak with everyone alone? I could get the tools out.” An evil grin spread across Pam's face.

“I have a better, much cleaner idea. Why don't we ask Bill to bring his new friend over?”

“The sweet little cream pie? You think she's a mind reader?”

“She said so herself, after she very ably warned us about that undercover cop. A telepath could be extremely useful to have around.” He smiled as he recalled the moment. “You should have seen Bill's face when she disclosed her talent. Quite a picture. As if he could keep that little secret from me.”

“Sookie.” Pam gave a quiet laugh. “Not the usual fang-banger type.”

“Don't be an idiot, Pam. She's not a fang-banger.”

“She's banging Bill isn't she?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He was hoping not. She had said she was Bill's, but didn't seem entirely convinced when she said it. “Sookie Stackhouse.” He took his time pronouncing every syllable.

He remembered her tight, pretty, innocent white summer dress with the delicate flowers, juxtaposed with the bright red fuck-me-heels. The long blonde hair, trailing down her back and over her bare, tan shoulders in glorious, soft, thick waves. Her chest heaving as they spoke to one another, her breasts spilling out further over the top of her dress with each heavy breath. Her delectable pouty lips. Her delicious scent. Her delightful spirit. Pam suddenly spoke, and he snapped out of it.

“She was cute, if a little sickly sweet. She seems to know hardly anything at all of vampires and our ways. Very naïve. Bill seemed rather possessive of her.”

“Indeed he did. You were sweet and naïve once too, weren't you Pam?”

“I was sweeter. Sweet as candy.”

“Of course you were. And I was a harmless, rosy-cheeked, Scandinavian milkmaid. Unfortunately, I've really only ever known the sarcastic, brattish, vampire child version of you, so of course I can't truly comment.” Eric turned back to his laptop and began typing.

“Well, perhaps if you'd taken a moment before you sank your fangs in and turned me, you might have. Are you Googling me?”

Eric smiled. “No.”

“What if I'd have been an absolute nightmare? What if I was the most annoying vampire child ever created?”

“You _are_ the most annoying vampire child ever created.”

“How did you know I was going to make such a magnificent vampire? Sniffing out my inherent talent like an undead Simon Cowell.”

Eric snorted. “ _Vampire Idol_.” 

“Oh that would be so good! I could be Ryan Seacrest! We should do it!”

“He's a were you know. That Cowell man.”

“Yes, apparently so. Randy Jackson too. They're in the same pack. Llamas aren't they?”

“Hmm.” Eric had very little interest in were-llamas, and even less interest in popular reality TV shows. Still, Cowell was quite a businessman. Businessllama. Whatever.

“So, how did you know I was destined to be the next Vamp Idol?” Pam pressed.

“I didn't. I _taught_ you how to be a great vampire.”

“I had the natural talent. I was born for it.”

“You know why I turned you.”

Pam smiled. She still loved it when Eric complimented her. She always wanted to make him proud. She kept such things to herself, of course.

“I don't remember. Tell me again.”

“I think it was your elaborately styled up-do.”

“No it wasn't. Tell me the story again.”

Eric wasn't in the mood for the story and was sick of her badgering. 

“What do you think this is, Pam? Nap time at Kindergarten? We have work to do. I will tell Bill to bring Sookie here, and we can test out her skills first hand on the staff. Perhaps she will identify our phantom embezzler, or at least be able to get some useful information out of one of them. Did you know Bill was mainstreaming?”

“So he says.”

“I though it was a joke, or some sort of sad attempt to earn his human's affections. Yet it seems to be true. Someone e-mailed me a link to a very interesting video. Take a look at this.”

Pam scooched round and sat beside him, and Eric smiled as he loaded up the link on the 'Take a Bite at Mainstreaming' site.

“Have you been checking up on Bill?”

“Just taking care to investigate the underlings in my area, Pam. I'm simply doing my duty. This is a real gem, I think you'll enjoy it.”

Pam stared at the screen, tapping her fingers on the table as she waited for the video to load. She reminded herself to sort out their Wi-Fi.

The film began with Bill walking casually through some woods. He stopped, leaned against a tree, and smiled. 

“ _Hi there. My name is William Compton. I was made vampire in 1868.”_

The film cut to a close up of his face.

“ _I'm here to tell you about mainstreaming. It changed my life.”_

Cut to Bill turning around and pointing at the camera, one eyebrow slightly raised. 

“ _And it can change yours.”_ Wink.

Pam actually guffawed, and her laughter brought to mind the sort of noise a dying elk might make. Eric pulled a face at her.

“What in Thor's name was that noise, Pam? It sounded like a minke whale giving birth.”

“If I still had the ability I might've just peed.”

He smiled and changed the view to full-screen. “Shh. It get's better.”

The film cut to Bill enjoying a local football game. He cheered along with the rest of the crowd, then turned his face to the camera.

“ _Wow. This is a really exciting game. I'm here to give you some tips on how to live more comfortably among human society. It truly can be rewarding.”_

He smiled again and turned back to the action on the field below, waving a previously hidden foam finger in the air.

“ _Whoo! Nice touchdown!”_

Pam shook her head in disbelief. “Who do you think filmed this? Do you think it was Sookie?”

“I don't know. Watch this.”

The film cut to a distance shot of Bill walking through the doors of a supermarket, then a closer shot of him wandering the canned vegetable aisle. He picked up some creamed corn and placed it in his basket, before turning to the camera.

“ _Firstly, consider the potential benefits of mainstreaming. These might include improved relationships with humans, a more varied, rich, and more satisfying lifestyle, or a reconnection with your previous human life or those loved ones you may have left behind when you were turned. Perhaps you just want a break from the daily grind of vampire politics. Mainstreaming is also an opportunity for re-establishing and maintaining aspects of your previous humanity.”_ He picked up a can of butterbeans and placed them in his basket, before drifting out of shot.

“What is he pretending to buy food for?”

“Shh. Wait.”

The camera picked up on Bill at the cold meats counter. The assistant handed him a package.

“ _Here's you bologna, Mr Compton,”_ the spotty assistant croaked. He glanced at the camera out of the corner of his eyes and smiled warily.

“ _Thank you, Todd. That's some fine looking meat.”_

Bill placed the meat in his basket and turned to the camera.

“ _The longer it is since you were turned, the more likely it is that you may lose your understanding of humanity. If you have lived within the confines of a close nest for decades, perhaps even centuries, you may be losing your grip on the reality of life outside it.”_ He smiled at Todd again before drifting out of shot.

The camera cut back to Bill, squeezing a cantaloupe this time. He cocked his head and nodded in a ' _that's a nice ripe one_ ' type fashion, and placed it in his basket.

“ _In order to ease yourself back into mainstream human society, it may be a good idea to spend a little time doing ordinary human things, such as taking a trip to your local supermarket.”_

The camera cut to him at the check out, paying for his items. He put them into a canvas shopping bag which he hooked over his arm.

“ _Perhaps you could pick out some grocery items, and make a gift basket for your neighbor. Other activities might include taking local evening classes, or joining activity and social groups. Perhaps you could try...”_

The badly edited film cut to Bill reaching out for the barrier of an ice rink, chuckling as he wobbled like Bambi on the ice.

“ _Ice-skating!”_

Cut to a shot of Bill from behind, throwing a bowling ball with incredible speed and accuracy and making a strike. The scoreboard above clearly showed that he and his bowling buddies had all made a perfect score so far. He turned, and high-fived three nerdy-looking vampire bowling companions, all dressed in the same bowling shirts. 

He gave a fist pump, and a _“yesssss!”_ before stopping in front of the camera and holding his hands out in front of him.

“ _Why not join the local bowling league?”_

Cut to Bill in a dance studio, twirling a frightened looking elderly lady around, before bending her back over his arm. There was a cracking sound and she let out an audible “ouch”.

“ _Ballroom dancing!”_

Next thing, Bill was sat in front of a potters wheel, and his clay vase had just collapsed. He laughed and shook his head.

“ _Pottery.”_

The camera cut to Bill in fishing gear, sitting by a moonlit lake, rod in hand.

“ _However you choose to do it, participating in human activities can be more fun than you realize, and humans will appreciate the time and effort you are putting in to normalize your behavior around them.”_

“Normalize? This is dreadful, Eric. I can't watch any more. Stop it.”

Eric was still chuckling. “What? Come on, it's hilarious. I thought you found it amusing.”

“It was at first, and would be, if it weren't so tragic. It's embarrassing. Is this what we've come to? Fishing? Who does he think he is? He's a vampire, for fuck's sake.”

Eric paused the video, on a shot of Bill gripping a wriggling trout. He signed in as Vamptastic12inch and wrote on the comments wall:

_Mainstreaming is for pussies._

Pam snorted. “We are becoming more and more humanized, and I don't like it. Perhaps we are not mainstreaming in the same way as Bill, since we are not trying to integrate fully into human society, but still, we go about our business legally. Most of the time. We pay our taxes. Everything is above board. Usually.”

“You mainstream, Pam, with your fucking twinsets.” Pam glowered at him and almost looked hurt. “It was a joke, don't pull that face at me. You know how fond I am of your pastel librarian attire. We do what we have to do. It's good for business.”

“Remember the old days?”

“Ah yes. Those happy times when humans were absolutely and totally oblivious.”

“We should not have come out.”

Eric thought back to that day when vampires came out of the coffin. Eric hated that phrase, since he never slept in one, and couldn't understand why anyone did. In truth, he wasn't particularly keen on tight, confined spaces. And light-proofing a room really wasn't that difficult, especially in this day and age. 

Anyway, that day, he'd wanted to stay in Shreveport, where he had always been based since he became sheriff of Area 5. However, the Queen had requested he be in New Orleans, along with all her other sheriffs. This was no doubt a safety precaution, in case there was panic among humans and a backlash followed, leading to some sort of lynch mob type scenario. Not that they'd get very far with that. Eric would've preferred not to go, and to take care of any situations which might arise in Shreveport, but he had to obey his Queen's command. She lived in a fucking fort, for fuck's sake. 

Eric had called Pam, calling her in the maker/child way, as well as on the telephone, and asked her to be there, as there were things he wished to speak with her about.

The moment itself passed by very anti-climatically. Eric had been prepared for and really wanted a fight, but everyone seemed incredibly calm and rational about the whole thing. Humans took some shocking these days, he'd observed. Also, they were all holed up in Sophie-Anne's palace, watching TV, out of the action. It was only when the initial shock had died down, and local TV channel came knocking on the gates, that the Queen went out, surrounded by her bodyguards, and made a sycophantic public statement that made Eric cringe.

He wasn't entirely sure at the time whether coming out was a good idea. There had been meetings, conferences, much debate and sitting around tables, shouting, fighting, and fierce opposition to the plans. For many years this had gone on, and vampires even died through the violent in-fighting. Eric had sat back and watched the idiots argue. Either way, whatever the outcome, he was a survivor and an opportunist, and he always made the best out of every circumstance he found himself in. This would be no different. 

For some reason, though, he just couldn't seem to get an image out of his mind. It was an image of himself, dressed up in a boring tweed suit with a bow tie, talking to a lecture theater full of students, flicking through projected images of Viking pottery, jewelry and weaponry. Academic tedium. He knew he was an expert, of course, not only in the Viking age but of many different historical eras, but couldn't stand the thought of having to talk about it endlessly to people. There might be the tasty prospect of lots of nubile, young students, but there really wasn't much money in it, or pleasure to be had from it. Eric had other ideas, something much more _him_. He was opening a bar.

After Sophie-Ann had given her speech, everyone dispersed, and Eric's cell phone rang.

“Pam?”

“Yes, are you still with the Queen? My flight just landed. It was late. I hate when flights are late, I always think dawn's going to arrive before we touch down.”

“Take a cab to One Eyed Jack's in the French Quarter. I'll meet you in there.”

By the time he'd gotten changed and strolled over to the bar, Pam had already arrived. She was in the corner, sitting in a booth. She was talking on her cell phone, twirling the stem of a glass of untouched red wine between her thumb and forefinger. She looked at him, hung up on her call, put her phone on the table, and stood. She bowed very slightly.

“Master.”

Eric couldn't help but smile at her. When she raised her head and saw his face, she smiled right back. He gestured for her to sit back down, and slid into the opposite side of the booth.

“Pam. I appreciate you responding to my call.”

“Not at all. Is everything going well with the Great Reveal?”

“Yes indeed. It seems to be going even better than planned.”

“ _Great Reveal_ ,” Pam scoffed. “It sounds like a naturist event. If we'd all have gotten naked perhaps I would've been more keen on the idea. I do not like it.”

“I know.”

Pam pouted. She was wearing some fake spectacles, something she did occasionally. Her hair was braided, and she had on only light make-up. She was wearing a bright pink silk blouse and cream-colored wide leg pants, and low heeled pink pumps. Her look was topped off with pearl earrings and a pearl necklace. It was a set, which he'd given to her as a gift many years ago. She looked the picture of suburban normality. Few knew just how incredibly lethal Pam actually was. He'd once seen her twist the head clean off a were-cheetah, in human form, and not spill a drop of blood on her elegant pink pastel suit. It was Chanel, after all.

“I can't stomach that synthetic blood. I'd rather drink from a goblin.”

“Well, it is done now. We have to make the most of it.”

“Hmm. So what do you have in mind?”

Eric was glad to get onto business matters. “I am opening a vampire bar, in Shreveport. Kind of like this place,” he gestured and they both looked around. “Only much better. I was hoping you'd agree to come and be my business partner. I could certainly use someone with your skills.”

“A bar?”

“Think of the prospects, Pam. Humans will already be curious to see the other side of life, and once the initial trepidation has died down, they will want to experience the excitement of being amongst real vampires. You know, live life on the edge, taste the danger. And we will taste them. And make a lot of money while doing it.”

There was some commotion on the other side of the room, some humans shouting about the news they'd just heard. There might have been a couple of screams. Pam and Eric both looked over in the general direction of the noise for a moment before continuing their conversation.

“Yes, I can see the business sense in it.”

“A bar would also be a good base for my work as sheriff. Money and profit can be filtered legally.” Eric raised his eyebrows. “It might be fun.”

“Oh I'm sure it would be, with you.”

“I will not force you to do this. I released you many years ago and I will not go back on my word.”

Pam thought about it for a while, and then looked up and smiled. 

“Can we have naked dancers?”

“As many as you would like.”

“I missed you, Eric.”

Eric grinned. Suddenly, he was back at Fangtasia, looking at his computer screen.

Pam crossed her arms and gave him a sideways glance. “Would you go back to being hidden, if we could?”

Eric thought about it. “No, I don't think so. Why should we have to hide what we are? We are at the top of the food chain, the most magnificent creatures on Earth. Our skills, our knowledge, the wonder of our existence, none of these things should be a secret. It has turned out quite well, don't you think?”

“Things are too easy. It was the excitement of the hunt that I enjoyed the most. To have it all on tap, synthetic or human, and to have them offer themselves willingly, well, where is the thrill? Where's the mystery?”

“It was getting too difficult. Security cameras, camera phones, the Internet. I'm surprised we weren't outed sooner.”

“Oh come on, you loved it.”

“Of course. But then attracting potential meals was always my strong point. It was hardly a chore. Being out has many perks.”

“Hmm. Well, like I say, there's out, and there's Mr. Mainstream. Do you think Bill's after some PR job?”

“Bill Compton, _the face of the fang_. Let's hope not.”

“Are you going to call him in or shall I?”

Eric typed another comment on the wall: 

_Bill Compton carries a man bag and runs like a girl._

“I'll call him.”


	2. What To Buy The Maenad Who Has Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Living Dead in Dallas

Pam walked in to Eric's office. Bill was there, pacing, and Sookie was still lying face down on the couch, unconscious. The scent of blood still lingered in the air. She took a couple of steps forward and looked at Sookie.

“My God.” 

“I know,” Bill responded tensely, chewing on his fist. “She was so close to dying.”

“Oh, no, not that. I just noticed those pants she's wearing. Do they tie up the side? What the fuck is that about?”

“What?” Bill's forehead creased as he drew his eyebrows together, and he shook his head a little. “They're very fashionable, and I happen to think they become her very well.”

Pam laughed out loud. “Pffft! I haven't seen anyone wear anything so trashy since, well, actually I've never seen anyone wear anything like that, other than perhaps professional wrestlers. She wore them especially for you?”

“I did ask her to wear them, yes.”

“To attend a meeting here?” Pam shook her head in disbelief. “Are you trying to put Eric off? Because, you know he really doesn't care much about what she's wearing, it's what's underneath her horrific outfit that he's interested in. Which, by the way, was quite an eye-opener.”

“He has no rights over Sookie.”

“Hey,” Pam snapped. “Eric staked a _vampire_ for her, asshole. He paid a pretty large fine for it too. I didn't see you rushing to your human's aid. And tonight, yet again, she seems to have been placed in danger while you weren't able to defend her.” Pam didn't really care about Sookie's welfare. Her aim was solely to wind Bill up.

Bill hissed and bared his fangs. Pam just stood with her hands on her hips and smiled.

“Get a grip, Compton.”

He retracted his fangs and tried to calm his anger. Fighting under Eric's roof would not be a wise move. He looked over at Sookie again, and stepped closer to her. The marks on her back were healing, but there would be scarring.

Pam went over to have a closer look, too. 

“ _Oh no_.” She turned her head away like she'd just come across some fresh road kill. She even brought her hand to her mouth and made a fake retching face.

“The lacerations are quite deep,” Bill commented.

“Huh? I know, I saw them earlier. You think I'd balk at a few scratches like that? It's the stretchy denim material. _Bleuurgh_.” She pretended to retch again, and coughed. “Oh. The lace up sides, Bill. That's.... oh good God it's just too much.” She turned away and covered her eyes with her hand.

“Stop it.”

“What the hell was she wearing on top? What do you wear with pants like that?”

Bill huffed, and rolled his eyes before responding. 

“A cropped blue and white check shirt.”

“Jesus.”

“Pam, she nearly died tonight. Don't you think it's a little inappropriate to be focusing on her outfit?”

Eric calmly strode into the room, breaking off their heated discussion.

“How is she?” Eric asked.

Bill folded his arms in front of his chest. “She is stable, but not yet awake.”

“Her pants are quite hideous,” Pam drawled.

Eric looked at his child and then back at Sookie. Well, he couldn't really argue with that one.

“I didn't notice them earlier. I suppose I wasn't focusing my attention on her legs. Do they tie up at the sides?”

Bill made an exasperated sort of sound.

“Yes.”

Pam jerked her head towards Bill. “He's quite attached to those pants, apparently.”

“Really? Do you have a pair yourself, Bill?” Eric smiled. “Matching tie-up-the-sides pants? I thought you were more of a pleated slacks man.”

Bill just pouted, and knelt down to tend to Sookie. Eric and Pam looked at each other and smirked, before Eric turned his attention back to the half-naked telepath, recovering in his office. It had been an up and down kind of evening, he thought.

On the up side, he'd gotten to see Sookie part-naked, may have 'accidentally' touched her bare breasts _twice_ , and he had drank some of her blood. All of these very important events were unfortunately tainted. Not at all the way he had planned for their first time. He had also been highly amused when Sookie had been verbally abusive to Bill earlier. Since he had also come to their aid with Dr. Ludwig, Bill and Sookie owed him, too, even if the maenad had apparently committed this act as a message to him.

Still, he hadn't enjoyed seeing Sookie in such pain. Elsewhere, on the down side, he now had to appease this crazy-ass maenad, and he still hadn't had a chance to speak with Sookie about her trip to Dallas. There was an extortionate medical bill heading his way from Dr. Ludwig, but that was easily taken care of. She was the best, and you get what you pay for. Oh, and his new leather sofa, just delivered last week. It could be cleaned, of course, but the scent of Sookie's blood would be lingering for a while. Perhaps he should add that one to his list of positives.

_Why can't maenads just send an e-mail?_

It occurred to him that he never believed for one moment that Sookie would die from her injuries. Whether that was due to his confidence in the good doctor, or some survivalist nature he instinctively recognized in Sookie, he wasn't sure. Perhaps it just wasn't a possibility, in his head. 

For some reason, he was finding himself particularly interested in and protective of this little blonde telepath. And he could not attribute this unusual interest solely to her quite magnificent bosoms. Eric's thoughts drifted.

“What now?” Bill said.

Eric sighed. “Dr. Ludwig suggests we don't move her for now, until she wakes up.” He went over to his closet, pulled his t-shirt over his head and slipped on a black shirt which he'd pulled off a hanger.

“Where is she?”

“Cleaning up. She'll take another look at Sookie before she goes.”

“This is all your fault, Eric.”

Eric gave Bill a very cool stare, and then finished doing up his shirt buttons.

“Why don't you and I have a drink out in the bar, Bill. Pam, you stay here and look after Sookie.”

“I don't want to leave her,” Bill pouted.

“And I don't want to have to ask you again.” Eric turned and headed out of the door. Bill looked at Pam, who smiled sweetly at him, before he reluctantly followed the sheriff.

The bar was busy, and a number of heads turned in their direction as they entered. There was some excited mumbling and a small amount of giggling, as Eric strode through and sat in his favorite booth. Bill took the seat opposite, and two TrueBloods were immediately placed in front of them.

“I don't appreciate being blamed for the crazed actions of a maenad, Bill,” Eric stated, firmly. “You and I both know that their type is a little... _unhinged_.”

Bill took a moment before he nodded.

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“What was Sookie doing out alone in the woods, anyway? Why weren't you with her?”

Eric was aware he was twisting the stake a bit here, but given the situation, and given the fact Bill was blaming him for it, what the hell. He needed to be taught some manners.

Bill clenched his jaw, and growled a little. 

“We had a disagreement.”

“Oh? About what?”

“I don't think that's any of your business, Eric.”

“Was it about those lace up pants?”

Bill was getting more and more exasperated. Eric wasn't about to let up.

“No.”

“Was it about me?”

“Why would we have been fighting about you?”

Eric shrugged. “I've been the reason for a great many break-ups, Bill. What can I say?” He sighed heavily and stretched his arms out across the back of the seat. “Women meet me, they are charmed by me, and then they simply can't stop thinking about me. Does she cry out my name accidentally during sex?”

“Don't flatter yourself, Eric. Sookie isn't interested in you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. She is _mine_.” Bill had fire in his eyes. The fire of a vampire who wasn't giving up his human without a fight. 

Eric leaned his head back and rolled his eyes. He didn't need to fight for a human. Sookie would yield, of her own accord.

“Yes, yes. She is yours,” Eric groaned. “You should be careful. Anyone would think you were in love with her. You shouldn't become so attached.”

Bill averted his gaze, and Eric couldn't quite read his expression. He'd hit a nerve, it seemed. Bill straightened his back and finally appeared to remember his manners. 

“Thank you for your help,” he managed to mumble, reluctantly.

“Sookie is welcome to it. You are under my protection, and therefore so is she.”

Eric took a swig from his bottle, and Bill did the same. After tasting Sookie this evening, even with the poison in her blood, the foul, synthetic taste was somewhat more apparent than usual.

“So how is the new job going Bill? Area 5 Investigator. What have you been investigating?” 

“You know what, since you gave me my assignments, and you have had copies of my reports. There have been a number of draining incidents in Minden, and a spate of anti-vampire graffiti in Bossier. Last month two new vampires were created here in Shreveport by Lynne Dardenne, and they have been causing some trouble.”

Eric sighed. “Yes. I really must bring Lynne in. Her mothering instincts know no bounds.” Lynne was in her late forties when she was turned during the 1960's. She was a heavy-set brunette who always sported a beehive and bright pink lipstick.

“That is six children so far this year already.”

“She picks the worst type of human; young, rebellious, stubborn, anti-establishment types.” Eric knew that was because they reminded her of her son, who died in a motorcycle accident before she was turned. She was always searching for his perfect doppelganger. “She's the worst and yet most prolific maker in the state.”

“It's getting entirely out of hand.”

“I will bring her in. Have you had any assignments direct from the Queen?” Of course, Bill wouldn't tell, but Eric thought he'd make a point of asking.

“If I had, then I'm sure you would know about it, wouldn't you?” Bill smirked.

“Oh yes, I'm sure.”

They sat for a little while without speaking. 

“So Sookie and I are to go to Dallas,” Bill said suddenly.

“Sookie is to go to Dallas. I have another assignment for you.”

“She does not go anywhere without me,” Bill responded, firmly.

“You have business here. I will send someone else with her, or chaperone her myself.”

Bill shook his head. “I don't think so.”

“Your new assignment is quite pressing. It cannot be delayed.”

“What is this very pressing assignment, exactly?”

It only took a moment for Eric to come up with something.

“There has been rumor of some giant were-rats setting up home in the sewage systems. I need you to get down there and scope it out.”

“Oh really?” Bill's tone was very unconvinced. Eric didn't care.

“It may take some time. Also, the Fangtasia bowling team needs an extra member. Maxwell Lee lost a finger last week and is still in the process of growing it back.”

Bill pursed his lips. Of course, Fangtasia didn't have a bowling team. _Had Eric seen the mainstreaming video?_ Bill shifted in his seat.

“Let's see what Sookie says, shall we?”

Speaking of Sookie, they both became aware that she had woken up. Bill made a move to stand.

“Stay put, Bill,” Eric ordered. “Pam will take care of her.”

He reluctantly sat back down. After a while, Pam drifted over.

“How is she?” Bill asked.

“Sore, but fine. She is showering.” Bill got up and Eric didn't stop him this time. Pam took his place in the booth.

“Dr. Ludwig has gone?”

“Yes. She said to say ' _don't call me at this hour again or I'll fuck you up you dead pile of shit. And expect a huge-ass bill through your door tomorrow and pay up quick, you big, lanky fucker!_ '” She relayed all of this in a very good imitation of Dr. Ludwig's voice. Eric smiled faintly. He wasn't supposed to appear amused while he was 'showing' in the bar. Chuckling was not vampiric. Pam often tried in vain to make him laugh while he was on the floor. Sometimes, when he was lounging on his throne looking particularly mean, she would appear at his side and whisper something like “ _I flossed my teeth with my thong this evening,_ ” or “ _Your leather pants are too tight, I can see your balls pulsating_.” She made a kind of game of it. 

“She was being more accommodating than usual. She must have been in a good mood tonight. Perhaps she got laid.”

“It has been an eventful evening,” Pam observed.

“Indeed.”

“Did you see Sookie's breasts?” She cocked an eyebrow. 

“No, I must have missed them. Of course I saw them, Pam. How could I fail to miss them?”

“She's quite a peach.”

“Hmm.”

“Perhaps she could be turned.”

Eric was more than aware that she didn't mean turned in the vampire sense.

“I will say this once, and once only, as your maker; eyes, and hands, and fangs, to yourself.”

“You can watch.”

“I mean it Pam.”

She gave him a knowing stare, and smiled before nodding. There was no need for either of them to say anything more.

Eric downed his TrueBlood, and stood up. Then he wandered back to his office, with Pam in tow.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V 

After Bill and Sookie had finally left, Eric sat in his chair in his office and put his feet up on his desk. He had never thought that one of his shirts could look sexier on anyone more than himself. The crisp, white cotton was a stark contrast to her tan skin. The material draping over the bouncy, voluptuous globes of her breasts. The hem of the shirt stopping tantalizingly mid-thigh. The cut of her panties just about visible through the material. Eric blew out his cheeks and exhaled loudly, even though he hadn't actually taken in a breath.

Pam walked in and closed the door behind her. She sat down in the chair opposite.

“I'm placing you in charge of purchasing suitable tribute for this maenad,” Eric said. “Starting tomorrow, begin shopping. Find her something... _nice_.”

“Like what?”

“Maenads are notoriously difficult to buy for. They are not easily satisfied. She will not request something specific, she will just expect us to keep trying until we get it right and she is finally appeased.”

Pam was stumped. She loved to shop, but buying a gift for a maenad? That was a serious challenge. Luckily, she was always up for a challenge.

“Give me some ideas.”

“Traditionally, it has been animals. Human or other mammal sacrifice is the norm, but other, more unusual animals have produced positive results. They like sex and booze, of course.”

Pam took a little notepad out of her pocket and made a couple of notes.

“Perhaps a drunk prostitute?”

“Hmm. No, that's far too obvious. Let's try to stay within some reasonable boundaries for now and say no human sacrifice.”

“What did Sookie say, that she had a wand or something, and she was all tattered?”

“I wouldn't even attempt to get her a new wand, Pam. Just try to stick to the obvious themes, but try to obtain more unusual items that she might not have been offered before. We need to get rid of her as soon as possible. She'll give us time to come up with something, but there's no telling how long that might be.”

“I understand.” Pam put away her notepad and rose from the chair. “I'll have someone clean up in here tomorrow during the day.”

“Hm-mm.”

“You look horny.”

Eric smiled.

“I am always horny.”

“I'm going home. I'll make a start on the maenad shopping tomorrow, before I come to the bar.”

“Fine.”

“Shall I call someone up? All the customers have gone home, but I could make a couple of phone calls. Those hot blonde twins were in again earlier. I've got their number.”

“Pam, stop pimping.”

“Well if you're not going to have them then I am.”

“Enjoy.”

Pam put a hand on her hip and cocked her head at him. 

“Twins, Eric. _Hot blonde twins_.” She pronounced each word.

Eric leaned his head back on his chair and closed his eyes.

“Perhaps tomorrow.”

“I'm pretty sure they're _AB pos-i-tive_ ,” Pam sang. When that still got no reaction, she made a tasty, lip-smacking sound. “Mm, mm, mmm. Yum.”

“Go home. I am perfectly able to arrange for my own sex.”

Pam pulled a face, and then left, closing the door behind her.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

After another day tromping through the woods, leaving tributes for the maenad, and still seeing no positive results, Eric suggested that Pam keep a kind of diary of her progress. What Pam really wanted to do was chase this bitch down and ram her fucking wand where the sun didn't shine. Even Eric seemed to be fearful of her powers, though, so she took his advice and began keeping notes.

  
  


**Week 1:** Offerings left by large tree stump.

Tribute: 6 chickens, a cockerel, a crate of beer, two bottles of whiskey, a silky nightdress, some fluffy kitten-heel slippers, and some porn magazines.

Outcome: 2 dead chickens found beneath silky nightdress. Message carved into tree stump reading _“D - Must try harder.”_

  
  


**Week 2:** Offerings left near the stream.

Tribute: 2 parakeets, a beaver, 2 bottles of expensive red wine, 3 bottles of gin, a packet of cocktail umbrellas, a Versace studded leather shoulder bag, a selection of Mac make-up, a large dildo, crotchless panties, and a gimp mask.

Outcome: Just feathers. Message spelled out in twigs. _“Pathetic. Fuck off.”_

  
  


**Week 3:** Offerings left in clearing used for picnicking.

Tribute: 5 meerkats, 2 armadillos, a 1955 Warre Vintage Port, a 1945 Riesling, a crate of Clynelish 1972 Single Malt Whiskey, 2 pairs of new season Jimmy Choos, an Alexander Wang clutch purse, a Marc Jacobs stardust printed python tote, a butt plug and nipple tassels.

Outcome: One armadillo, alive, but completely frozen, nipple tassels covering it's eyes. Butt plug inserted. What can only be described as vomit, but not vomit inside of purse. No message. She is messing with my head. Eric suggests I stop with the shoes and bags.

  
  


**Week 4:** Offerings left in the large clearing again. Eric and Indira came along to help me with the bull.

Tribute: Young bull, six bottles of 1989 Trouillard Brut Grande Reserve Vintage Champagne, a 1929 Chateau Latour, 2 bottles of 1953 Bonnes Mares, a crate of 1949 Chateau Margeaux, a selection of whiskey and vodka miniatures with various mixers, and some love eggs.

Outcome: Bull castrated. Message written in blood on the bull's hide - “ _You are not even trying_.” I have had enough. Advised Eric that he will need to come and try to reason with her. Maenads are now at the top of my list of most hated creatures, just below were-cheetahs and grasshoppers.

  
  



	3. How to Make Hot Pink Lycra Look Hotter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set During Living Dead in Dallas

 

Eric tried on a second outfit. It consisted of a leopard print leotard and very short, tight leather shorts. The first outfit had been some sort of chain-mail skirt accessorized with a studded dog-collar and nipple clamps. That one was immediately rejected, and the nipple clamps went into the top drawer of his desk. 

Pam went up to him and reached to place a leather biker cap on his head.

“There.”

Eric turned his head to check his ass out in the mirror behind him. _Hmm. Not bad._

There was a knock at the door, and Pam opened it, letting Chow into the office.

“Master, I...” He stopped in his tracks. “I...er...”

Eric turned to face him, hands on hips, displaying himself proudly.

“Yes? Spit it out Chow.”

“I have the, um, the new cocktail menu you requested.”

“Very good.”

Chow placed the menu on the desk and eyed his sheriff suspiciously. Eric raised a blond eyebrow.

“See something you like, Chow?”

“That's, well, it's really quite some outfit.” Chow was flitting between being aroused and repulsed. He was confused. Eric didn't usually dress like this.

“Yes.” Eric turned back to face the mirror, and re-arranged his cap at a more jaunty angle. “I have an orgy to attend and I'm trying to find an appropriate outfit. I'm thinking sexually ambiguous and adventurous aerobic-class teacher.”

“Ah. Then the shorts are not appropriate,” Chow said. “The movement would be restricted for aerobics.”

Eric considered this, and did some knee-bends and squat thrusts, to test the limits of the shorts. His bits kept popping out.

“Yes, you're quite right.”

“The cap is too Village People,” Chow continued. “Perhaps a headband is more fitting, with some sort of Lycra one-piece and leg warmers. Neutral colors, perhaps lilac and aqua? I really think that would bring out the best in your eyes, make them really pop. A small amount of man-liner, perhaps. White training shoes, obviously.”

Pam looked exasperated.

“Well who died and made you Jane Fonda's stylist?”

“I was just trying to help.”

“Lilac? With Eric's complexion?”

“I thought, well...”

She just kept on staring at him. Chow hated it when she did that. He preferred not to anger Pam, wherever possible. He excused himself and left.

“I think I need to cover more skin,” Eric said. “This is too obvious. Plus I don't like the leopard print. It needs to be more...”

“Camp?”

“You have something more camp than this?”

Pam nodded. 

“I got the campest shit you ever saw.”

“Let's try something, I don't know, a little less 'out and proud'? Slightly feminine yet displaying all my masculine charms to their best advantage. I need to be approachable, from all angles, by anyone. Slightly coy, yet overtly sexual.”

“Can I put make-up on you?”

“No. No make-up.”

Pam pulled out another bag, which said _Ruffles and Leather Dancewear_ on it. Ruffles and leather. Sounded promising.

She pulled out some gold hotpants.

“No shorts.”

Pam tutted, and carried on rummaging. She whipped out a spangly boob tube. Eric sighed and shook his head.

“Do you know how hard it is to get this shit in your size?” Pam grumbled.

She grabbed another bag and pulled out a glittery cropped sweatshirt that said ' _Be Free to Love'_ on it.

“Nice.”

Eric nodded his acceptance and Pam looked it over. She took some scissors and made some quick alterations, cutting out the neck, and some material off the bottom and the arms, before tossing him the customized garment. He eased his arms out of the leotard and pulled it down around his waist, before slipping the new top over his head. He put his hands on his hips and looked in the mirror, turning from side to side.

“What do you think?”

The material stopped just below his chest, showing off his glorious abs. Eric took a moment to admire himself. It was times like these that he was thankful that he'd been turned in his prime. How dreadful it would've been to be turned mid-40's, when the paunch and love-handles had set in. Not to mention the possibility of moobs. _Man boobs_. Pam had brought the term to his attention recently, and he was still chuckling about it. When they were out on the floor, Eric sprawled on his throne, Pam by his side, they would search for them in the crowds. _“Moobs, 10 o'clock.”_ What an absolute bitch it must be to be eternally stuck with moobs. He knew vampires who had this problem, and had observed that they were forever angry and bitter about it. _Moobs._ Eric smiled.

“I think you need some kind of leggings.”

Pam picked up some more bags and began rifling through them. She pulled out some hot pink and aqua-colored Lycra and Eric smiled.

“That's more like it.”

Without any attempt to hide his nakedness, Eric whipped off the leather shorts and leotard, and began to pull on the leggings. Of course, he was used to being naked in front of Pam, not that he had a scrap of modesty anyway. She'd seen it all, a thousand times over. There was no leering from Pam, only a general admiration, that had never gone away. She had seen many, many naked bodies. As far as men went, Eric had the best body she'd ever encountered. Sexually speaking, though, they were very much over each other, a long time ago. These days, Pam had a thing for horny housewives and nerds.

Eric re-arranged himself down below and took a good look at his reflection.

“Hmm. Yes, I like these.” He turned around to face Pam. She held her hand up and turned her head to the side in mock-embarrassment at the sight of his package.

“They are obscene. I love them.”

Eric smirked. “I concur. The top clashes a little though. Do you have something to match?”

Pam did some more rummaging. “What is all this about anyway? You said something about accompanying Sookie to an orgy?”

“Yes, she invited me on an orgy date. Wasn't that nice of her?”

“And she asked you to camp it up? Why would sweet little Sookie be attending an orgy?” Pam pulled out a matching pink tank top and tossed it over to Eric.

“Something to do with her wanting to read the minds of the people there. They are humans, and I think she intends me to be some sort of distraction slash bodyguard.”

“And Bill can't do this because..?”

“Because he's an uptight A hole who'd blow her cover straight away. And because she knows I would be better for the job, in protecting her and looking hot in Lycra.” Pam looked at him and narrowed her eyes. Eric pulled on the tank top and smoothed it down over his body. “And because he's in Dallas,” he added.

Pam shook her head. 

“Aren't there more important things to be doing? Shouldn't we be chasing this maenad?”

“Sookie is under my protection, Pam. I am protecting her.” Eric turned back to the mirror, and looked over his outfit again. “I think this might be the one.”

Pam stared at him for a long while, thinking. 

“Your ass looks good.”

“Of course it does. This ass would look good in a pair of brown, frayed woolen underpants. I should know, I used to wear them.” Eric pulled down one side of the top, exposing a nipple, then did the same with the other. He put his hands on his hips and did a couple of squat thrusts. Finally, he turned around and went to sit behind his desk.

“Yes, this will do fine, Pam.”

She began gathering the rejected outfits.

“What do you want me to do with the rest? Should I take it all back?”

“No no. Keep it.” Eric waved a hand. “Leave it in the closet.” He began tapping away on his laptop.

Pam smiled. When she'd finally put everything away, she went and sat in the chair opposite him.

“So, do you think you're going to see any action at this orgy?”

“In this outfit, how could I not?”

“What time do you have to be there?”

“I said I would be at Sookie's by 9:30.”

“Are you driving?”

“Of course. You think I would fly in this?”

“Well then you should probably go.”

Eric exhaled loudly. “Yes, I just have to send this e-mail and then I'm gone.”

“Perhaps the maenad would appreciate some Lycra? Something sporty? For running around in the woods?”

“Hmm.”

“Or some running shoes.”

“Hm-mm.”

“What do you think?”

Eric snapped his laptop shut and stood.

“We will deal with the maenad tomorrow. Do you have the goats on order?”

“Delivery at 8:30 tomorrow evening.”

Eric pulled on some sneakers and a long trench coat.

“What's that for?” Pam asked.

Eric smiled. “The Great Reveal.”

  
  


V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

  
  


The following evening, Eric made his way into Fangtasia, before opening time. He walked past his office and instead went to sit in the bar. He took off his jacket, slung it on the back of a chair, got himself a blood, and sat in his booth. He began reading his newspaper.

Pam came in about ten minutes later, and sat opposite him, without a word. She began reading a magazine.

After sitting there together quietly for some time, Pam finally looked up and spoke.

“If you were one of the Muppets, which one would you be?”

“The what?” Eric mumbled.

“The Muppets. You know, the funny brightly colored puppets. Don't pretend you are ignorant of the Muppets, I know you're not. There is a quiz in this magazine: _'Which Muppet are you?'”_

“Hmm. What are you reading? National Geographic? The New Scientist?” 

Pam scoffed. “So?”

“So what?”

“Which one are you?”

Eric sighed, and took a swig from his bottle of TruBlood. He turned the page of his newspaper, and stared intently at an article about the latest fashion for placing small dogs in handbags.

“Swedish Chef.”

Pam threw her hands up in frustration. “You're saying that only because he's Swedish. In character, you are nothing at all like Swedish Chef.”

“You asked which I would be. You did not say I had to choose which one I believed myself to be most similar to in character, Pam. How the hell am I supposed to choose a Muppet that I believe I share characteristics with?”

There was a long pause. Eric went back to reading his newspaper, and Pam flicked through her magazine. She kept casting glances at Eric.

Eric finally caved in and groaned.

“What?”

“Which one do you think I would be?”

“Why don't you just do your little quiz and find out?” Eric chimed.

“Because I want to know which one _you_ think I am.”

Eric shook his head and looked down at his newspaper, turning another page. Pam waited patiently for his response. He pretended to be engrossed in an article about the vampire situation in the Middle East, but in actual fact he was going through all the Muppets in his head. 

Pam carried on staring.

Waiting.

“Beaker.”

“Fuck off!” 

“You asked.”

“I'm not Beaker.”

“Which one are you then?”

“I don't know. I like to think I'm a cross between a number of different Muppets. The wild, untamed spirit of Animal, the comedic genius of Fozzy Bear, the adorableness of Kermit. The fighting talents of Miss Piggy.”

“Hmm. A Muppet monster hybrid.” Eric went back to his reading. Pam carried on with her random page flicking, and began to tap her fingers. She looked over at Eric again.

He let out another long sigh. 

“What now?”

“If you could have any special power, what would you have?”

“I'm bored of this now. Don't you have work to do or something? The bar's due to open soon.”

“Invisibility would be good. Or maybe telekinesis.”

“How about super-strength, or super-speed, or immortality, those ones are good as well, Pam. Flying? There's another one.”

“Oh, you always rub the flying one in my face, just because you can and I can't. What is wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing.” 

“You're all touchy and tense. What happened at the orgy last night? Did it not go well? Was it the Lycra? I told you, those leather shorts were more appropriate.”

“The evening took a surprising turn, actually. Callisto, our friendly neighborhood maenad, turned up at the sad sex gathering. She made quite a mess, which she kindly left for us to tidy up. I don't think we'll see her for a while.”

“Oh, thank God,” Pam groaned, sounding genuinely relieved. “We're finally rid of that crazy bitch. No more maenad gift-hunting. What was the orgy like? The outfit? Did it do the job?”

“Yes, it worked very well. The orgy was a group of worthless, pathetic humans, some of whom had murdered a friend of Sookie's, which is why we were there.”

“And?” Pam waggled her eyebrows. “Was Sookie suitably impressed?”

“Of course.”

“Well then what's wrong? Why are you all moody?”

Eric just went back to his reading. Pam narrowed her eyes at him in thought.

“She will not give in to you. She loves Bill. You are frustrated.”

“I am not frustrated.”

“You never took rejection well. You are not used to it.”

Eric closed his eyes for a moment and then sat back in his seat.

“She wants me, she is... she won't admit it.”

“She doesn't want what you can give.”

“And what is that?” Eric snapped. “If she does not want an incredibly hot, very rich and powerful ancient Viking vampire who can make women come with a mere flick of his golden mane, then what exactly does she want?” He tossed his hair back to accentuate his point, in a shampoo commercial-type fashion.

“Oh, oh _yeah_ ,” Pam deadpanned, her voice a monotone drawl. “Don't stop, baby. I'm close.”

“Seriously.”

Pam took her time considering her response, and Eric realized that he was actually genuinely interested in hearing the answer.

“Well perhaps she wants more than that. In fact, Sookie is probably not even interested in the money and power. You have seen how she is, she is not frivolous or materialistic. She's not that type. She wants a relationship.”

“Vampires are hardly good _relationship_ material, are they? You of all people should know that. I find it hard to believe that even our dull mainstreaming friend Bill would be able to sustain a human-type relationship.”

“But her human dating doesn't fare too well, does it, with her mind reading. She wants someone to cherish her, and care for her, and tell her how wonderful she is. Of course, you'd show her an amazing time between the sheets, but then what? I know what a woman wants.”

Eric snorted. “So touching. I think you brought a tear to my eye.” She looked at him seriously and his smile fell. “Sookie is independent. I think she does not want to belong to anyone.”

“You hardly know her,” Pam scoffed.

“Nor do you, and yet you claim to be an expert on what she wants. I know enough. And I _do_ know women, Pam. You read too many of those advice columns. You're not the one who writes the responses are you?”

“I just know a thing or two about human emotions, especially female emotions.”

Eric pulled a confused face and shook his head in disbelief. “Pam, you've not had an emotion since the early 90's. And I mean the 1890's.”

Pam crossed her arms and gave him a glare. 

“I was very happy when electricity became widely available in the home. It was a significant step forward. Just because I don't easily express emotion doesn't mean I don't understand the concept.”

“Look, can we stop talking about human emotions now, it's making me exceedingly uncomfortable. None of this matters. I will have sex with Sookie, and then everything will be fine.” He motioned with his hand, drawing a line under his statement.

“You're being an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn't you hear anything I just said?”

“She wants it too, I can tell.”

“If you're so sure she wants you, why don't you just take her?” Pam asked. “Go round her little ramshackle house and just seduce her into submission. Or better still, just get rid of Bill, since you arranged to take care of her if he _went away_.” 

“I will not take, and I will not lower myself by conveniently ridding myself of Compton for sex with a human. She will come around. She _will_ yield to me.”

“You enjoy the challenge. You can't glamor her, and she won't come to you. I can't remember the last time you were like this. It's sweet.”

“Don't push me, Pam.”

Pam looked down and flicked through a couple more pages. She pursed her lips and let it go. For a while.

“Did you get _any_ action last night?”

Eric rubbed at the bridge of his nose, as if he had a migraine coming on. Which was utterly absurd, of course.

“We kissed. Some minor groping. That is all.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“How was it?”

Eric shook his head and groaned.

“This isn't some teenage girl's pajama party, Pam.”

“Just tell me,” Pam responded, impatiently.

He clenched his fist and thought about punching her. Then he thought about Sookie's soft, warm pink lips. How she had relaxed in his arms, molded to his body. The way she had opened up beneath him, on the hood of his beloved 'Vette. Her desire fueling his own. He hadn't wanted someone so bad for a very, very long time.

“She kisses... beautifully. I don't think I ever got so hard just from tonguing before. I was fully prepared to take her on the hood of my car. The Lycra accommodates huge erections very well, by the way.”

“And Sookie?”

“Unfortunately I'm not yet sure how well she accommodates them.”

“You know what I mean. Did she enjoy the kissing?”

“Oh, she was very responsive. However, the... _ambiance_ was wrong. She would have enjoyed it much more, if she hadn't been so disgusted by the naked sex-party, and the images she'd had of them killing her friend, and if she didn't have this resolute and unfathomable loyalty to Bill. Who turned up, by the way.”

“While you were...”

“Yes.”

Pam grinned.

“Wonderful. Was he angry?”

“Splendidly so.”

“Well, you did have an interesting evening. I'm sorry I missed it.”

“I think you would have been suitably diverted.” Eric resumed reading. “You need to cancel the goats.”

“Hmm, yes. I'll get onto that. I guess I could just keep the rest of those sex toys I bought.”

“I'm sure you'll find some use for them.”

Eric downed the rest of his blood, folded his paper and rose from his seat. Pam grinned as Eric walked towards his office. He was wearing the tight leather shorts he'd tried on yesterday. She'd not realized, since he'd been sitting down, and it was more of a surprise because on top he was wearing a very conservative blue v-neck cashmere sweater. 

“Fabulous,” Pam said, approvingly.

Eric stopped and looked over his shoulder. 

“I know, isn't it?” he said, with a wink.

  
  


  
  



	4. Speed Dating for Beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Living Dead in Dallas but before Club Dead

“Eric.”

“Hmm?”

“We need to talk. I have an idea I want to run by you.”

Eric's response was abrupt. 

“Pam, I'm busy. This Tetris game won't play by itself, and I'm on course to beat my all time record.” He was sitting forward in his chair, fingers moving with super-fast vamp speed over the keys of his laptop, situated on his desk.

Pam waited for another 20 minutes. She remained standing, and went into downtime.

“Fuck! I was 800 points away. That was your fault, Pam. You twitched.”

“Can we talk now?”

Eric closed his laptop and sat back in his chair. He put his feet up on the desk, and gestured with his hands.

“You may proceed.”

“Thank you. I'm sure by now you have seen my e-mail?”

Eric lowered his head and looked up over his brow. “Yes.”

“The one I sent two days ago.”

Pause. “Yes.”

“What did you think?” 

He hadn't read it at all. Pam knew this, because she'd checked before entering his office. _Sent, received, unread._ Pam was always very careful to track these things.

Eric picked up his pen and began absently twirling it in his fingers. “The video you forwarded me, the one with the cats talking?”

Pam groaned.

“No. Not that one.”

Eric smiled. “It was very much like they were talking. Do you think perhaps they were shifters, or were-house cats? If they weren't real cats, then there's really nothing very entertaining about it at all.”

“No, the other e-mail. The report on the quarterly earnings for the bar.”

Eric decided to play along. Of course he hadn't read the e-mail, and Pam was quite obviously aware of this. She was always so anal about tracking the status of her e-mails.

“Yes. I have had the pleasure of perusing said report.”

“And what did you think?”

“I thought your pie charts were gaudily colored and ill-thought. I would have used a bar chart, as the format is much more effective for comparative figures.”

Pam had included a pie chart in her report, and momentarily doubted herself. _Maybe he had read it_. She shifted on her feet.

“I have a preference for pie charts.”

“Pie charts scream weakness, Pam,” he chided. “You will never be sheriff until you get your charts right. As you are already aware I have not yet read your report. You know I trust you to deal with this. I have more important pressing matters at the moment.”

“Like Tetris.”

“Yes. Like Tetris.”

“And fantasizing about screwing Sookie Stackhouse on the hood of your 'Vette.”

Eric threw his pen at Pam's head. She couldn't dodge it quick enough and it whacked her in the face.

“Fuck!”

Pam picked the pen up off the floor and made a fake throwing move with her arm, like she was going to retaliate. Eric didn't flinch. Pam gritted her teeth and carefully placed the pen back down on his desk.

“That hurt.”

“Oh come on Pam, I flicked a pen at you. That's not pain. Don't you remember that time you fell off the top floor of that multi-story parking garage in Bruges?”

“I was pushed.”

“It was a dare.”

Pam growled in frustration, crossed her arms in front of her chest, then smiled. 

“Sookie is a sore spot.”

“Let's not mention the S word again today, Pam. I'm not in the mood, and I'm likely to throw more office supplies. Tell me about your report. I presume all is well; income is up from last year and last quarter, the vampires of the area obediently do their duty and turn up when required. The fang bangers continue to flock to the bar to be insulted, partially drained, and glamored to within an inch of their dull, pathetic lives. Staff are mostly dumb, but on the whole, hard working and cheap. The Queen continues to take her share, and all is well in the land of Eric.”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Hmm?” Eric narrowed his eyes.

“Takings are down from last quarter and last year, 26% last quarter, 31% from last year.”

“I don't think so. Are your calculations correct?”

Pam scoffed and looked offended. “Of course. Do I need to remind you about my doctorate in mathematics?”

“We can't be down on profit, the customers are still here,” Eric extended his hands and rolled his wrists gracefully, gesturing down his body. “Enjoying the sights.” 

“Hmm, well, I hate to rain on your parade, but they're not. We are losing customers, and we're not appealing to new ones, it seems. We've been slacking, and the fact this is a vampire bar isn't enough any more. We need to give people something new, and exciting.”

Eric sat back again, and considered Pam's words.

“You said you had an idea, earlier, when I was playing Tetris.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Go on.”

“We need to branch out into more merchandising. Humans will buy any old shit if it has fangs on it and makes them look _edgy_.” Pam scowled. “I think we also need to do more special theme nights.”

Pam dipped into her pants pocket and pulled out some paper, unfolded it, and handed it to Eric.

“What's this? _Speed dating_. Dating whilst _on_ speed? Or dating very quickly?”

“Quick dating, like mini-interviews for prospective sexual escapades. Speed dating is popular among humans. People don't have time to fuck around buying flowers and taking strolls in the park any more. They want a couple of minutes to check someone out, find out how much money they earn, what car they drive, and to judge the likelihood of them being a good lay.”

“Sounds reasonable. Very practical.”

“I agree.”

“I think I would be very good at this, if I actually needed to stoop so low as to bother.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “If we have vampire/human speed dating, it's sure to be a winner for the bar. We could do other special theme nights, maybe get special guest vamps in. Karaoke. Ladies night.”

“We did ladies night. You know that ended badly.”

“That was unfortunate.”

“They weren't ladies.”

“They were trying to get the discounts.”

“I wouldn't have minded so much, but she had a bigger cock than me. It is not often I am outdone in that department.”

Pam snorted. “We need to try something new.”

“There's no way we're having karaoke, Pam.”

“How about we get more bands in, have an open mic night. Salsa, S&M.”

“Salsa and S&M? At the same time?” Eric thought about it, and pulled an ' _it might work_ ' face.

“Look, I don't know. Speed dating might be a good place to start. People come here looking for sexual encounters, thrills, excitement. Single people. Horny people.”

Eric perused the leaflet. It was from another bar in New Orleans, one which was run by Pam's long time associate Lucia Carello. 

“What did Lucia say? Did it go well?”

“Absolutely. Human's love it, because it makes vampires more approachable. And vamps love it, because it makes them seem more mainstream. Whether they are actually mainstreaming or not, many report it to be a novel and entertaining way to peruse the buffet.”

“Hmm. Fine. Do what you need to do. But Pam,” she turned as she got to the door. “No karaoke.”

“Yes _master_ , whatever you say,” Pam groaned. “I will organize the first speed dating event for next week. Perhaps we should do a practice run, so I can be sure I get the timing right, and so on.”

“Do it. Get someone in to help. Call Bill, but not until just before we need him.”

“Of course. Should I ask him to bring his tasty telepath?”

Eric growled a little at the word _his_. T he noise was not lost on Pam, and she smirked.

“Yes. Why not.”

Pam grinned and turned to exit the room.

“You _waaaant_ her.”

Pam ducked. A stapler flew past her head, hit the wall, and rattled down the corridor. She chuckled as she wandered out into the bar.

  
  


V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V 

  
  


The following Thursday, Bill and Sookie strolled into Fangtasia, looking decidedly put out.

“Ah, Bill. About time.”

Eric was sitting at a table in the middle of the bar, and Pam, Chow and Ginger were also in attendance, standing close by. Pam was clutching a clipboard, and had a stopwatch and a whistle around her neck.

“Eric. Pam said there was important business.”

“Oh good, you brought Sookie.” Eric gave only the briefest of smiles. “How is my favorite telepath?”

“I'm fine, thank you very much. Bill and I were supposed to be going on a date tonight, though.”

“Oh really?” Eric smiled at her, now. She was wearing a soft, fluffy-looking pink v-neck sweater and checked pastel capri pants. Thankfully, no tie-up sides. Very cute. Just snug enough. Bill was looking uptight and boring as usual in a burgundy shirt, khaki pants, and loafers. Yawn. “Where were you going?”

“Not that it's really any of your business,” Bill huffed, “but we were going to the local theater to see a play about the plight of the common soldier during the Civil War.” Double yawn. What the hell was he thinking, taking her to some dull tin-pot theater production? Couldn't he tell she wanted to have some fun? Sookie had a body that was _made_ for fun. She tried to look thrilled at the prospect of her date, but Eric could see the desperate longing for more excitement behind her eyes. She was completely wasted on Bill. 

_Prick._

“Well, I'm terribly sorry that I interrupted your plans, but this will still be a date, of sorts. Although, it will obviously be nowhere near as exciting as this wonderful play you were going to see.”

Bill pursed his lips and stuck his chest out, and Eric had to stifle his need to chuckle.

“What exactly is this very pressing matter you contacted me about? I see that the bar is not open yet.”

“Won't you sit down?” Eric looked at Sookie and gestured to the chair beside him, but she took the seat opposite instead. Bill remained standing.

“Pam.”

Pam stepped forward and handed them some flyers. “We are having our first speed dating event tomorrow night, and I wanted to test it out. You are my guinea pigs.”

“Speed dating? Eric, you asked us here for this? I thought that this was a serious matter.”

“It is, Bill,” Eric responded, sharply. “This is the future of my bar, and you are my underling, while you reside in my area. I am quite free to ask you to do this. Do you have a problem?”

Bill gritted his teeth.

“No.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Sookie was the one to finally break the tension.

“What are ya'll doing speed dating for? Is it for vamps _and_ humans?”

“A very pertinent question, Sookie, thank you. Yes, it is. We are branching out into other areas, trying to improve upon the image of the bar, draw in new customers, improve upon the standard of clientèle, and so on.”

“Well, I guess that might be fun.” Sookie looked up at Bill and smiled. _Not as much fun as taking you into my office and fucking you on my desk_ , Eric thought to himself. “We could always see the play another night anyway, Bill.” _Sitting in my leather swivel chair, Sookie in my lap, riding my cock_. “I don't mind helping out.” 

“Up against the wall,” Eric thought out loud.

Bill narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

“We've really come up against a brick wall in terms of finding ways to encourage new customers into the bar. Speed dating is our latest idea. So, Pam wants us to have a pretend run, in preparation for tomorrow.”

“Everyone has to pretend like they never met, and make it seem like you're trying to pick someone up, you know,” Pam said. She picked up some note paper, badges and pens from the table, and handed them out to Chow first. He looked at the badge in disgust, before pinning it to his bare chest.

“Now, Chow, that's just the type of vamp behavior that has ordinary humans running. This is why you never find yourself a nice girl,” Pam chided. She ripped off the pin, taking some skin and part of his nipple with it. “You're supposed to write your name on it, too.”

“But I'm not wearing a shirt.” He glanced down at his chest and gritted his teeth when he realized the damage Pam had done. “That will take days to grow back.”

She reached behind the bar, flung his vest in his face, used the badge to pin it to his head, and moved on.

“Eric.” She handed him a badge, paper and a pen.

“Pam, I'm not playing.”

“Oh, come on. It might be fun.” She gave him a wink. “A little role play?”

Eric raised an eyebrow and considered it. Last time he'd role-played with Sookie there had been some very interesting moments. Oh, she'd enjoyed his bisexual horny aerobic-class teacher role. She'd _really_ enjoyed it, for a little while. 

Pam turned and began organizing everyone. 

“Sookie, you sit there. Ginger, you're over there. OK, Bill, Chow, you have to swap tables when I say time's up.”

Eric wrote on his badge and pinned it to his black shirt.

“OK, everyone find a date, Bill you're with me first,” Pam directed. “I'm going to play the part of a human.”

Eric got up from his chair and sat opposite Ginger. She giggled at him, and he rolled his eyes.

“Everyone ready? Go!” Pam blew her whistle and started her stopwatch.

“So, what's it like being a vampire, master?”

Eric cursed in Norse. “Ginger, don't say anything else. Let's pretend like we're telepathic and can read one another's minds, instead.”

“OK, that should be fun.”

Groan.

Pam studied Bill carefully, as though he'd come for an interview. 

“So, Bill, you're a loafer man, I see. I'm partial to loafers myself.”

“Thank you for noticing, Miss, ah...” Bill squinted to read Pam's badge.

“You're a fucking vampire, how can you not read that? Are you pretending to have bad eyesight so you can stare at my bosoms?”

“No. The writing is very scrawly.”

“How dare you? I have a very elegant hand. My name is Mercedes Lovelumps, and I have to say you are a very rude vampire.”

Meanwhile, Sookie was becoming uncomfortable sitting opposite Chow, who was just staring at her, fangs protruding very slightly beneath his closed mouth, like a cat.

“So Chow, what do you do for a living?” Sookie shifted uneasily in her seat.

“I work here.”

“Oh, really? I work in a bar too.”

He seemed to be considering a number of different responses, before he finally settled on one. 

“Good.”

Sigh. 

Chow opened his vest and poked a finger at his damaged nipple. There was skin-flappage, and he appeared to be attempting to place it back evenly, so that it healed correctly. Sookie turned away and grimaced.

“Your tattoos are nice. What's your favorite one?”

“I love them all equally. Like children.”

 _OK then_. Sookie glanced at her watch. Maybe that awful play actually would have been more entertaining.

Pam was becoming infuriated. By now both she and Bill had their arms crossed in front of them and were glaring at each other.

“Bill, you're really terrible at small talk. No one cares about how many _gig of ram_ you have on your computer.”

“Well, Miss Lovely Lumps...”

“Lovelumps. L.O.V.E.L.U.M.P.S. And it's Ms,” Pam interrupted.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. _Ms_. Lovelumps. You are hardly my dream date, either.”

Pam looked at her stopwatch and blew her whistle. It was a little early, but she'd spent more than enough time with Bill.

“Vamps shift around now.”

Eric snapped out of downtime and moved towards Sookie's table, but Bill had already beaten him to the chair. _Not a problem, Compton. I can wait._ He headed towards Pam and sat down.

Pam blew her whistle again.

“Bill is such a jerk-off.”

Eric smiled. “I know. Mercedes?”

“Mercedes Lovelumps.”

“Enchanté, Ms. Lovelumps. I'm Dixie.”

“Dixie? Your name badge says Ken.”

“Ken is my other name, the pseudonym I use when I perform in the strip clubs. My real name is Dixie. Dixie Normous.”

Pam and Eric both laughed out loud and everyone else turned to look. Sookie smiled at them.

“Well, they're having fun.”

“Yes. Perhaps we could catch the play on Monday night, Sookie? You're doing the early shift at Merlotte's, I believe.”

Sookie sighed. “We're supposed to be pretending, Bill. Ask me some questions.”

“Ah, of course. Do you come here often?”

She snorted at his cliched line, before realizing he was being serious. “Um, yeah. Sometimes, when I'm summoned here.”

“Do you like vampires?”

“Sure, why wouldn't I? They're just like everyone else, but, you know, they drink blood and don't go out in the day, and they can run real fast, and they're kind of, you know, dead, stuff like that.”

“You're very tolerant of our kind, Sookie.”

Sookie shrugged. “Everyone should be treated the same. So tell me about yourself, what do you like to do?”

“I'm interested in computers, I enjoy playing on my Nintendo Wii, and I read a lot. Do you like to read?”

“Yes, I like romance novels and...” Eric and Pam were laughing again and Sookie turned to see what they were doing. Bill pouted at them. Pam was shaking her head, enjoying the joke.

“Oh, Mr. Normous, that really is quite a tale.”

They both laughed again.

“Ah. Yes it is. Let's stop now, Pam. It's time to change tables.”

She checked her stopwatch. “There's another minute yet.”

“Blow the whistle, Pam. Chow's about to drain Ginger, I can see it in his eyes.”

She looked over. “Yes, you're right. Perhaps we should just let him.”

“How about you add a couple of minutes on this time. Let Bill enjoy his date with Ginger.”

Pam gave him a knowing smile, and blew her whistle. Eric strolled over to Sookie's table. Bill was still sitting opposite her.

“Come on Compton. Your next date is waiting.” He gestured to Ginger, who giggled and waved.

Reluctantly, Bill stood and went to sit opposite Ginger.

Eric sat down casually, and smiled at Sookie. Pam blew her whistle again.

“So,” Sookie squinted to read Eric's name badge. “Ken?”

“Yes, Ken, that's right. Ken...” Eric strung together some random syllables. “Boonsen..val..man..son. The third. Sookie, is it?”

“That's me.”

“What a very unusual name. It would be a very embarrassing name, for a vampire. I can't imagine the pun escaped your peers at school, either.”

“Sucky Sookie, yes, kids can be very hurtful, and I had a very difficult childhood. But my name is perhaps not quite as embarrassing or unusual as yours, Mr Boonsenvalmanson.”

Sookie laughed as she tried to get it right, and Eric noted the cute little dimples in her cheeks, and the way her nose crinkled. Hmm. Who knew she had dimples? He wondered if Bill had actually ever made her laugh at all.

“Well, it is quite a common name, where I'm from. So Sookie, tell me, why are you here tonight? What is it that interests you about dating a vampire?”

“Oh, mainly I like their non-existent brain signatures.”

Eric cocked an eyebrow. “How very charming. I have to tell you, it's not usually my brain that attracts humans.”

“No? Well why's that, Ken? Are your brains in your biceps?”

Ouch. Sookie was enjoying this. Well, he was happy to let her have her fun. 

“Yes, actually they are. I'm a bisexual personal fitness instructor, and to be honest, I'm not the brightest of vampires, but I am well meaning, and I look fantastic in spandex.” Sookie shifted in her seat, and Eric grinned. She remembered.

“I can see that you're the type of girl who likes to be intellectually stimulated, Sookie. I happen to be very able, when it comes to stimulation, just not of the intellectual variety.”

“Hmm, really Ken. Well that's, er, interesting.” Sookie played with the hem of her sweater, tugging it down a little, and subconsciously thrust her breasts out very slightly. The gesture didn't escape Eric's notice. He was quite able, when it came to reading body language. He made a mental note, and filed it away for future reference. _Breast stimulation._ “What kind of stuff do you like?” she continued. 

“I like disco music, group activities, such as line-dancing, orienteering, amateur dramatics, orgies, that sort of thing, and I also like snuggles. You?”

“I like sun-bathing, animals, and trips to the theater.”

“Oh, I love the theater. I've heard there's a play on about the Civil War. Would you like to go see it with me? It's probably going to be awful and very badly directed, in fact, it's likely to be torturous, but I could always feel you up if we got bored.”

Sookie rolled her eyes.

“That's _ever so_ nice of you Ken, but I'm not sure whether we'll be dating again.”

“Well, that's a shame.” He leaned a little further across the table. “If you got to know me a little better, I think you might like me.”

Sookie eyed him suspiciously.

“So, what is it you're looking for in a woman?” she asked. “Or a man. I see you're obviously very broad-minded.”

“Indeed I am. Always keep your options open, Sookie. Ideally, I'm looking for a telepathic waitress, naturally blonde, blue-eyed, hour-glass figure. She would have to have a penchant for men in brightly-colored Lycra and needs to be open-minded when it comes to sexual activities.”

Sookie blushed a little, and pouted at the way he was teasing her. 

“Well, that's quite specific.”

“Do you fit that description, Sookie?”

“No, not at all, actually. I work in a library, I'm certainly not telepathic, I'm a bottle-blonde, and I'm wearing colored contacts.”

“If you're not telepathic then what's with the preference for beings with no brain signatures?”

“I, er, I'm a neuro-surgeon? That's why it interests me.”

“You said you worked in a library.” Eric smirked, and Sookie smirked back.

“Part-time.”

“Of course. I hear neuro-surgery doesn't pay very well. Many neuro-surgeons have to get second jobs. How about the spandex and sex?”

“Spandex is a definite no go. Even when it's stretched very tightly over an enormously impressive frame.”

Eric cocked his head and then an eyebrow at her. _Touché_. She smiled at him smugly, pleased with her cheeky comeback. Was she flirting with him? With Bill here? She had spunk, and she definitely knew how to have fun. This little creature intrigued him more and more every time their paths crossed.

Eric leaned further forward in his chair. He could feel Bill's eyes burning into him from the other side of the room.

“And the sex, Sookie. What about the sex?”

Pam blew her whistle again. “Time's up everyone!”

_Groan._

Sookie looked up and blushed again, as if she'd only just become aware of what she'd been talking about. As the blood rose to the surface of her cheeks, Eric growled, low enough only for vampires to hear.

He watched her as she rose from her seat, all pink-faced and ruffled.

“Well, um, that was fun,” she stammered.

“Indeed it was. More fun than a date with loafer-boy?”

“Eric, you can be real mean sometimes.”

Eric raised his eyebrows and chuckled. She had no idea.

“OK everyone,” Pam shouted. “So what would happen now is you would all decide who you'd give your contact details to, and make a note on the paper I gave you earlier, and I would come and collect it. Then, I contact you later and let you know whether you impressed,” she looked at Eric, “or failed miserably in getting another date.” She looked pointedly at Bill. “We don't really have time for that though, since the bar should be open already and this isn't real anyway.”

Bill walked over to Sookie and took her hand. Eric looked up at them both.

“Thank you for coming Bill. And you Sookie. I very much enjoyed our date.” Bill clenched his fist. “Please, allow me to see you out.”

He walked them to the back door of the bar, and discreetly slipped a note in Sookie's purse.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, and your wonderful date at the theater, whenever you are able to make it.”

“I'm sure we will, Eric,” Bill mumbled.

“Thanks,” Sookie added.

Eric smiled at Sookie, and closed the door.

It was only the next day that she found the note, which read:

“ _Number 1: Ginger. No way. Vacant fang banger. Very bad hair._

_Number 2: Mercedes Lovelumps. Too weird. Looks like my daughter. And an ex-girlfriend. Way too complicated and possibly very high maintenance._

_Number 3: Sookie. YIELD TO ME._

_K. Boonsenvalmanson III.”_

  
  


  
  



	5. The Trouble With Bill Compton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the beginning of Club Dead

Eric was sitting behind his desk working on his laptop, going over his standard monthly area report to send to the queen. God, he was bored. He contemplated looking at more vamp porn, then sighed, and tried to return to the business at hand. The report was due tomorrow, and Sophie-Anne was seriously anal about time-keeping. Hmmm. _Anal._

He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Pam knocked twice on the door and entered the room.

“Yes?”

“I hate to interrupt but there's someone here to see you.” Pam was smirking, and quite randomly, she was wearing a tiny sombrero. Eric gave her a confused look, but let it go. Perhaps Vogue had decided they were in this season, and it was some kind of fashion statement.

“Who is it?”

“Sookie,” Pam smiled.

Eric perked up. “Oh really?” Perhaps she had finally decided to yield to him. Eric straightened up in his chair. “Show her in.”

He closed his laptop, and then opened it again, but closed down all the porn site pages, and the FrontierVille game he'd been playing, since that was also slightly embarrassing. He shook his head and checked for stray, loose hairs on his shirt, and pulled one off. He thought about undoing another shirt button but there was already plenty of chest on display. He leaned his elbows on the desk, and pressed the pads of his fingers together in front of him. The look he was aiming for was seductive, powerful, and very, _very_ available for sex. Right here. Right now.

Pam opened the door, and in walked Sookie. She was wearing a short, red, quite revealing summer dress, and shiny red heels. Delectable. He gestured for her to sit down in the chair opposite, and she did so. Without any of her usual characteristic smirking, Pam politely closed the door and left.

“Sookie. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I'm sorry to come over unannounced, Eric. I hope you weren't busy.”

“Not at all.” He cast a sideways glance at his laptop, just as a pop-up advertisement appeared for some sort of human sex aid. He flipped the top shut. “You are... _alone_?” His eyebrow-raising was even more pronounced than usual; very high and at a seriously acute angle.

“Yes.” Sookie blushed a little. Delicious.

He relaxed the brow. 

“You have decided to yield to me.”

She couldn't meet his gaze as she responded.

“Yes. I can't stop thinking about you. When we kissed at that orgy, well, it was so... exciting. And the way you nearly took me on the hood of your car, I don't think I ever wanted anything so bad. I can't stop thinking about the sight of your fantastic backside so perfectly encased in that pink Lycra. You're so much more superior to Bill in every way.” She shook her head and the beautiful golden waves cascaded down over her bare shoulders. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Hmm. That makes two of us. You have come to your senses. This is good.” He gestured with two fingers using a 'come hither' motion. He intended to be using that signature finger move again, later, under different and more sensual circumstances. 

“Come here.”

At his command, Sookie rose from her seat, slowly walked around his desk, and stood beside him. Eric looked up at her, considering what he wanted to do to her first. So many options, and each of them, so very pleasing.

He took her hand and guided her so she was standing in between his legs, perched on the edge of the desk. He leaned forward and caressed her soft bare legs from her calves all the way up the outside of her thighs, under the skirt of her dress and up to her hips. He stroked at the lace of her delicate underwear beneath his fingers, and resisted the urge to tear at them. Instead, he gently ran his palms over her simply divine ass and back down her legs, before taking her by the hand again, guiding her closer toward him.

“Kiss me Eric.” Her breathy request was like sweet music to his ears.

He leaned up, and groaned as he got to sample the touch and taste of her sweet lips once again. Sookie wrapped her arms around his neck, and their kiss deepened, their desire building. He pulled her closer, onto his lap, and relished the taste of her, and the beautiful soft moans she was emitting into his mouth.

As they kissed, Eric felt for the zipper at the back of Sookie's dress and eased it down. He gently tugged at the straps of the dress, and Sookie happily obliged him by slipping her arms out of them herself. Eric kissed at the soft, warm skin of her neck, before sucking lightly on the flesh beneath her ear. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and he fought the urge to nip and taste her. _Not yet_.

He massaged one of her breasts in his hands, and allowed his thumb to brush her already hardening nipple through the silky material of her bra. She leaned into his grasp, and searched once again for his lips, running her fingers through his hair, kissing him for all she was worth as he continued his sublime assault on her nipple.

She finally pulled away, breathing heavily.

“I want you so bad Eric. Please. Please take me.” 

“Soon. Be patient. Don't fret Sookie, I fully intend to give you what you want.”

He pulled her bra down a little and lowered his head to kiss her breast, before cupping it in his hand and laving at her nipple with his tongue. Sookie threw her head back and cried out in her pleasure. He was dead-on with the breast stimulation. She was loving it, and it was certainly no chore to oblige her. In fact, feeling her body writhe and respond to him this way was beyond pleasurable. It was like having a favorite hobby, then realizing there was a whole secret super-club he never came across before. Sookie was a revelation.

He gently licked and sucked, teasing her nipple to an even firmer peak, before taking more of her breast into his mouth and sucking harder on her soft flesh. _My God, I could never, ever get enough of these_ , he thought. He considered the possibility of getting a cast of them, so he could look at them and play with them, when she wasn't around and available to be fondled. A magnificent bronze pair for his desk, a more life-like rubber set to keep with him at all times when required, along with an emergency spare to keep in the trunk of his car, and perhaps an ice-sculpted version, to keep in the freezer and bring out as a center-piece for special occasions. The possibilities were endless.

“More.” Sookie breathed. “I need more of you, Eric. _All of you_.” 

He wrapped an arm around her and stood, leaning Sookie back on the desk while still kissing her. He indiscriminately brushed all the items on his desk onto the floor. Pens, papers, Tabasco sauce, his telephone, even his laptop, went crashing to the floor, and he pressed her down onto the flat surface with his body. Her dress had already ridden up to her thighs, but he pushed it up further, before gripping her behind the knee, and grinding himself against her.

“Oh God, Eric.”

“Do you want this Sookie? Tell me this is what you want.”

“Yes. Yes, I want you.” She placed the palm of her hand against his cheek and brushed her thumb over his lips. Eric's tongue darted out, and he couldn't resist taking the tip into his mouth and biting down just a little. Sookie shuddered beneath him. “Please,” she breathed.

Eric straightened up and ripped his shirt from his body, tossing it aside, before undoing his overly-elaborate, unashamedly over-the-top belt-buckle. Sookie sat up, leaning on her elbows, and watched him, her face flushed with desire and her eyes wide with her desperate need. He stepped out of his pants and her eyes widened even further at the sight of him fully naked. And fully erect.

“Eric, I....I....”

Eric was used to the rather-scared-yet-incredibly-excited face that his nakedness tended to induce. Honestly, it never got boring. Somehow though, seeing that look on Sookie's face was even more satisfying than usual. 

“Don't worry, Sookie, I'll be gentle. You have nothing to fear from me.”

A slight tug, and her dress had pooled on the floor, and Eric kicked it aside. Then his mouth was on hers once more, and he took the opportunity to rid her of her bra and fully release those oh so wonderful breasts. He trailed his mouth down her neck and further down her body, kissing, licking, and sucking as he went, careful not to pierce her beautiful soft skin with his fangs as he worked. Her skin tasted like nothing he had ever encountered before. Like what he imagined one of those fruity ice-cream sundaes might taste like. Fresh, and sweet, and creamy. He couldn't wait to dip his extra long spoon in, get to the cherry.

“Yes. _So good_.”

He got to her belly, and Sookie gripped at the edge of the desk as he hooked his fingers into her panties and began to tug them down.

_Come hither._

“Eric.”

“Hmm.”

“Eric!”

“What?!” Eric opened his eyes and looked at Pam with a great deal of anger and frustration but absolutely no embarrassment as she caught him at the hottest part of his fantasy.

“I do hate to interrupt while you're so incredibly busy, but I need to speak with you urgently. You were just jerking off under your desk weren't you?”

“What is so urgent?”

“I wish you'd warn me. It's unhygienic. I touch that laptop sometimes.”

“Shut the fuck up, Pam. You've seen me jerking off loads of times. You should have knocked. Why have you been touching my laptop?”

“Just because I've seen you bash the bishop on repeated occasions in my long, long life, doesn't mean it should appeal to me any more.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It's gross.”

“Since when did you become such a prude? We used to have masturbation competitions, don't you remember?”

“Yes, I was champion 12 years running.” Pam raised her chin and stood proudly.

“You cheated. You faked.”

“Oh puh-lease. I don't fake, it's demeaning and cowardly. I've not faked since I was with you. You're a sore loser.”

“I was sore, yes, for a while. Twelve straight hours of wanking can do that, even for a quick healer like me. And there's absolutely no way you ever faked it when we had sex, Pam.”

“Indira's maker used to make her study languages and practice deep meditation.”

They both laughed out loud.

“And didn't she say he used to make her carve gourds?” Eric asked.

“She can still do it! The other day she carved a perfect image of Maxwell Lee into a butternut squash!” Pam held her sides as she continued to chuckle. “It was uncanny. When you turned it to the side it seemed like he was winking!”

“Aah-ha!” Eric wiped away a bloody tear with the knuckle of his finger. “Well, you were the lucky one. You really hit the jackpot, maker-wise. By the way, Pam, were you wearing a small sombrero earlier?”

“No.”

Eric knotted his brow, and then shook his head. “No matter.”

“What's going on with you anyway? You're all weird. Or should I say frustrated. You've been such a joy to be around the last couple of weeks.”

“Just because someone chooses to go on a date with Fisty Palmer, _in his own office_ , does not mean he's acting out of the ordinary. Onanism is not a crime, Pamela. I pump the python in here all the time.”

Pam narrowed her eyes at him. “No, you don't. You get some random fang banger in here to give you a hand job.”

Eric looked disgusted. “I have standards, Pam. Did you see that coach-load that came in earlier?”

“Yes.”

“They smelt all damp and woody. Like wet dog.” Eric sighed. “I'm bored of fang bangers. They disgust me.”

“Even the hot ones?”

Eric thought about it, and shrugged. “Most of them. It's just no fun any more, Pam.”

Pam gave him a look of concern, then smiled. “Does this have anything to do with a certain Bon Temps belle?”

Eric stared at her, before zipping himself up and putting his feet up on the desk.

“No.”

“You took too long. That's definitely it. Were you fantasizing about Sookie?”

“Will you stop distracting me with the masturbation talk? What is this urgent matter?”

“What the fuck is going on with you? I know she's cute, but, _seriously_. Is it because she's in love with Bill? Because she's playing hard to get? Or is it the freaky telepathic thing? The boobs?”

“That is quite enough.” Eric adopted the firm tone he usually used when Pam was taking her snarky comments too far. It was a tone she used to quite enjoy, in a sexual way, many years ago. “Stop being so insubordinate. Remember your place.”

Pam's nipples hardened instinctively and she lowered her gaze to indicate her apology. She couldn't believe he still managed to do that. It was embarrassing and, well, it was just _wrong_. She silently chided her unruly nipples.

“My news relates to a certain Bill Compton.”

Eric suddenly became much more interested.

“Yes. What about him?”

“He should've called long ago, as we arranged, and he hasn't.”

“So? Perhaps he has decided he is not man enough to come back and tell Sookie that he's pussy-whipped and dumping her for his bitch of a maker. Well, I suppose I will have to be the shoulder to cry on.” Eric smiled at his child. “Bring me a box of tissues, three tubs of ice-cream, and a selection of chick-flick movies. Perhaps some massage oil and some of those sex toys. I might even pop some Lycra on, for good measure. I will be needing to comfort our telepath.”

“You hate weeping.”

“Oh, she will not be crying for long. She'll soon be over him. And under me.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “It's not just that Bill's late, something has happened.”

“Hmm?”

“I called one of our contacts in Mississippi. There was some sort of incident at the airport. Bill never even got on the plane. He's missing.”

“What?”

Pam filled him in on some of the details she'd learned. When she'd finished, Eric sat back in his chair and thought about it. He summed up his thoughts in one word.

“Fuck.”

“What? I mean I know we should probably be concerned, but really, who gives a shit about Bill anyway?”

“The queen will, if she finds out something has happened to her _precious_ little project worker.”

“Oh. Fuck.”

Eric momentarily gave in to his anger and kicked a filing tray off his desk.

“Compton. What a lot of trouble he is. Do you know what the real trouble with Bill is?”

“Yes, but go on.”

“He thinks he is some big-shot modern vampire, with his secret projects and his cheap, tacky mainstreaming websites, but he is simply an inept embarrassment. And do you know what annoys me most about him?”

“His loafers? His floppy bangs?”

“No, but those are definitely top 20, maybe top 15. The thing that annoys me the most is that I always have to clean up his mess.”

“Well personally I hate his over-the-top accent and exaggerated brooding, and the way he jingles his change in his pocket, to try to hide the fact he is touching himself. Oh, and the way he makes a little noise of appreciation and cocks his head to one side when he sips on his TruBlood, like it's really tasty and doesn't actually taste like ass.”

“Hmm. Yes, those things would definitely be up there, too. Let's face it, Pam, we could sit here amusing ourselves for hours making a list, but we simply don't have the time. If we knew what little secret job he'd been working on...”

“Do you think that has something to do with why he was taken?”

“I think it's likely. Why else would anyone take Bill? Because they needed sideburn-grooming and slacks advice?”

“Did you find out what he was working on yet?”

“No, I have not.” Eric's muscles tightened. He hated being kept in the dark. The lack of control.

“Perhaps we should visit his house?”

“I already sent Clancy last night. Nada. Ingenting. Niente. Nothing but shabby antique furnishings, apparently.” Eric had known that Bill was working on something for the queen for some time, but still had no idea what that was. It was very frustrating for Eric to know business was going on behind his back in _his_ area. The fact that it was Compton keeping secrets somehow made it twice as annoying.

Pam crossed her arms in front of her chest and huffed.

“Perhaps Sookie knows? If she knew what a shit Bill was she'd probably tell us.”

“Hmm.”

“She has a right to know.”

Eric closed his eyes and groaned. Truthfully, he didn't want to tell her. Certainly, this turn of events might make it easier to get Sookie naked and writhing in ecstasy beneath him, or on top, whatever, it was all good. But he knew that she would take the news badly. There would probably be considerable weeping involved, and Pam was right, he was particularly averse to weeping. He didn't even enjoy the taste of tears, as some vampires quite bizarrely seemed to. It was just salt water, after all. Still, he'd have a taste of Sookie's, if she offered. 

Bill should be the one to tell her, the fucking idiot. Then Sookie could be in no doubt about what an absolute bastard he'd been to her. There were other, perhaps slightly more manipulative reasons for keeping the truth from her, too.

“We might need her assistance in locating him. If she knows the reality of what he has done then she might not care enough to want to offer her help so freely. If he's still broody-moody-computer-geek-with-fangs sweet-loving-boyfriend Bill then she'll want to help us find him, and be more willing to divulge any useful information she knows. When we find him he can do the dirty work himself.”

Pam wasn't convinced. She was no Bill fan (seriously, who was?) and the revelation of him cheating on Sookie made her even more pissed at him. She wanted to bitch about him with Sookie. She wanted Eric to finally get a piece of Stackhouse ass. She wanted Bill out of the picture, permanently. Everything around here would be much, much more pleasant if this happened.

“We need to either locate Bill or locate his work,” Eric continued, his tone becoming even more serious. “Either one or both of these things must be presented to Sophie-Anne, or I will be blamed for it. As my second-in-command you'll get some punishment too, of course.”

Pam nodded her head once to confirm she understood the seriousness of the matter. 

“This is not good.” Pam knew she was stating the obvious.

Eric held his head in his hands and tried to sort it all out in his mind, and formulate some kind of plan. If Bill had been kidnapped, which was now becoming likely, then they wanted him for something, probably information about the project. If he wasn't talking, they might try to find an alternative way to make him talk. If they knew about Sookie, they might involve her.

Eric's head snapped up.

“We need to send someone over to Sookie, to keep an eye on her.”

“Who?”

“Anyone. Who's here?”

“Indira and Clancy are both in tonight. And Bubba of course.”

Bubba had been passed on from Area 2 a few days previously. Eric hated having to look after him.

Eric scowled. “I'll go.”

“You can't, you have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Where's Bubba?”

“He's in the storeroom playing with a bag of peanuts and some wool.”

Eric groaned and jerked his head.

“Bring him in.”

Pam went and collected Bubba and brought him to Eric. Bubba was dressed in blue jeans and a leather jacket, but his hair was coiffured into a more modern style than usual. Eric figured Pam might have been looking after his hair and outfits. He had crafted himself a necklace and matching bracelet out of the peanuts and wool.

“Mr. Eric.”

“Bubba. I need you to do a very important job for me.”

“Oh, yessir, what'll that be?”

“I need you to watch over Sookie and protect her until I tell you otherwise. If anyone tries to hurt her or take her away, then you do what you need to do to help her. Do you understand?”

“Er, yes Mr. Eric. I understand.”

“She might be working tonight at Merlotte's. Do not get distracted by cats, or any other small mammals for that matter, on your way, or during your mission. Do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself. You know the drill. Stay close to Sookie but remain concealed. Do you understand?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Go.”

Bubba was immediately out the door. Eric sighed.

“He's a total idiot, but he'll do the job.”

“He still remembers the karate, he's got some tasty moves. What do we do now?” she asked.

“We leave Bubba to watch over Sookie just in case anyone tries to kidnap or harm her. I want you to visit her and try to ascertain whether she knows anything about Bill's disappearance or his project. I doubt very much he would have told her, but you never know. She is quite astute, so perhaps she picked up on something. Let her know that he was due back into Bon Temps but never arrived. Don't give her too many details, just enough to judge her reaction and get her to talk.” 

“Should I take the ice-cream and massage oils with me? I don't mind taking over comforting duties, if you're busy.”

Eric gave her an icy-cold stare in response. He picked up the phone and flicked through his leather-bound directory. 

“Call me after you have spoken with her. I will make some calls to our contacts in Mississippi, and see if I can find out anything more.”

“Fine. Aren't you going to finish what you started earlier?”

“I would but suddenly I'm not so much in the mood.”

“Do you think the queen knows?”

Eric momentarily thought Pam meant _does the queen know you were slapping the salami in your office while fantasizing about Sookie_ , then realized what she actually meant was about Bill being missing. 

“I very much doubt it, and we need to make sure it stays that way. Otherwise, you and I are deep up to our eyeballs in silver shit.”

“ _Were_ you fantasizing about Sookie?”

“What the fuck does it matter who I was fantasizing about? We have important work to do, Pam.” She just looked at him and shrugged her shoulders, urging him to continue, which he did. “Why are you so interested? I'll tell you one thing. For some reason, in my fantasy, you were sporting a little sombrero. Maybe, I don't know,” he gestured with his fingers, “six inches in diameter? Very small. Quite odd. I don't know where that came from.”

“Oh?” She gave him a concerned look. _Sombrero?_ A nice fedora, perhaps, or a classic beret, those would have been more acceptable. Pam had never worn a sombrero, and the thought of it made her feel almost queasy. Eric's fantasies were getting very bizarre.

Eric noticed her look of revulsion.

“I wasn't fucking you, by the way, Pam, if that's what you're worried about. You just popped your head around the office door wearing a sombrero.”

“Was I watching while you had sex with Sookie?”

“No. I don't think so.” Eric began typing a number into the handset. “You were probably listening in to us though. I know what you're like, you dirty bitch.”

Pam chuckled as she twisted the door handle.

“It was Sookie, then.”

She closed it just in time for the telephone to hit the back of the door instead of the back of her head.


	6. Wendy: Mistress of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Club Dead

Pam arrived at the bar later than usual. She parked up next to Eric's Corvette, and as usual whenever she saw his car, she started singing _Little Red Corvette_ by Prince, in her head first, then out loud. Just the chorus, over and over. It was an annoying habit, and one which she just couldn't seem to shake.

She let herself in via the back door, and wandered down the corridor to Eric's office. 

“ _Baby you're much too fast.... yes you are.... doo di doo Corvette....”_

Eric's office door was closed, and she could hear that he was on the telephone. She carried on through to the bar.

“ _You need a love that's gonna last....mm-mm. Dee-di-dee, doo doo.”_

She went into the bar and did her rounds, checking in with all the staff and acknowledging all the vamps, making sure all was well on the floor, and outside, where a line was already forming. She homed in on a group of rowdy, annoying-looking guys, obviously first-timers, and she threw them a cool glare as she walked past, to ensure they knew who was boss around here. One of them wolf-whistled at her, and she stood at the door beside the human doorman, Malcolm, and waited for them. Pam had little interest in humans, and tended to ignore them wherever possible, but boys like this just needed bringing down a peg or two. Pam knew their type, and she wanted them in her vault. It soon became their turn.

“Well good evening gentlemen, welcome to Fangtasia. Can I see some ID please?”

The four of them laughed and muttered some little jokes between themselves, before checking their pockets, and fishing out their wallets. She took the driver's license from the first one, whistling boy.

“Michael Wachowski,” Pam read. “Wasn't that the name of that little green blob in Monsters, Inc? Mike Wachowski?”

“What?”

His friends laughed, and one of them pushed him. The shove was hard, and pushed young Mike very close to Pam, which was not a good move. She pushed him backwards with a finger.

“Excuse me, are you invading my personal space?”

“Sorry, he pushed me.” Mike turned to his friend and shoved back. “Idiot.”

Pam turned her attention back to the license.

“Hmm. 21, huh? You barely look like you've made it through puberty yet.” She gave his body the once over, as if she was studying him for further evidence of his age. Finally satisfied, she handed the ID back.

“Is that enough for you? Did you want to check whether my balls have dropped?”

 _Ugh._ Pam was very unimpressed. There was some giggling from his other friends, and one of them muttered “ _huh huh, balls_ ,” which amused Pam in it's idiotic infantile simplicity, but she didn't let it show.

“Well, that is a very sweet offer, but no, such a detailed examination will not be required. I have exceptional eyesight, as it happens, and can see through those horrific tight pants you're wearing. Your testicles are indeed at a mature stage in their development, in fact, I can see that they're quite large and hairy. Your penis, however....” Pam looked down and shook her head in a sympathetic kind of way.

Michael Wachowski looked astonished.

“Wha?”

“Well, I suppose you can't have it all. You have very clear skin though, hardly a blemish on your pretty little face. Who's next? Come on, hand 'em over, boys.”

Mike was still looking at his pants, wondering if Pam could actually see through them.

“That's fucked up.”

“No, honey. 'Round here, that kind of shit is normal. If you want to see something _really_ fucked up, you just try making some trouble for me this evening.” Pam flashed some fang. “I guarantee you'll be sleeping with the light on for the next 10 years.”

She handed back the last ID card, and stood aside to let them in.

“And remember gentlemen,” she tapped the side of her head, “you're in my vault.”

They scuttled in, looking decidedly less smug and troublesome than they did a few moments earlier. Pam nodded to Malcolm who smirked at her, and she left him to deal with the rest of the line. She trailed in after Mike and his friends, and resumed her rounds.

It was a reasonably busy night, and her thorough scan had revealed no further problems or anything unusual. The music was pumping, and Prince had soon found his way out of her head. She wandered back down to Eric's office, and knocked, before entering.

Eric looked like he might snap at any moment. He was sitting at his desk, and he'd just put the phone down on one of his from Jackson. No news on Bill. No one had seen or heard of him. He'd apparently vanished into thin air. Eric wasn't sure whether he should be reacting badly to this turn of events and throwing a huge Viking-sized fit, or celebrate by throwing a party. Mostly, he just didn't want the queen to get wind of it, and start with the agonizing torture. 

“Any news?” Pam asked, after closing the door, and sitting down.

“No, nothing,” Eric growled. “Our most reasonable option right now is to send Sookie to Jackson, and hope that she can utilize her skills and infiltrate the were community there.” Eric looked like he was about to burst with rage.

“Alone?”

“No Pam, not alone,” he snapped. “I have a were contact in Jackson who just so happens to owe me a favor.”

“Who?”

“Alcide Herveaux. He's filthy were scum, but as they go, he's quite honorable, and well respected. He's going to accompany Sookie around the were-bars. He'll be picking her up and they'll be leaving tomorrow.”

 _Herveaux... Herveaux..._ Pam was sure she'd heard that name, but he wasn't in the vault. She'd have to do some research later.

“Well then, I suppose there's nothing more to be done right now. Why don't you sit out in the bar?”

Eric sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

“I am too tense,” Eric grumbled. “I'm quite likely to harm someone.”

“Oh, come on. They love it when you look extra mean and lethal. It's good for business. Humor me.”

“Pam...” Eric groaned.

“Just for an hour. Let's play a game.”

Eric stared back at her defiantly.

“I am quite obviously not in the mood for games, Pamela.”

Pam stood up and went around his desk. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. He seemed adamant, but Pam was determined to have some fun, and cheer him up. She grabbed his arm and tugged. It was a struggle, even for her, but his chair moved a little, since it was on wheels. She gritted her teeth.

“ _Come... onnn!_ ”

“All right, all right. God, you are such an annoyingly persistent cow.” She let go of his arm and he rose from his chair. “Let me get changed first.”

Pam grinned and headed for the door. 

“Five minutes, and if you're not out there, I'm coming back and you're going to force my hand into using more brutal measures. You have been warned.”

Eric shook his head as he opened his closet door. He knew that Pam could not overpower him physically, of course, but she had other ways of getting what she wanted out of him. These included loud, off-key singing, the worst attempt at lap-dancing he had ever encountered, and her sad panda face. His least favorite was when she repeated everything he said and copied his every move. She once persevered with this for 4 nights, before he had been forced to bind her and lock her in a closet.

He pulled his t-shirt off over his head and surveyed his array of outfits. Pam tended to take care of his Fangtasia closet; getting items dry-cleaned, rotating the outfits, buying new ones and ditching stuff she decided didn't work for him. Mostly her choices were spot on. Occasionally, Eric thought, as he ran his fingers over a tasseled belt, she got it horribly, horribly wrong. He was hoping this particular item was one of her sick jokes.

Finally, he settled on a billowing white shirt and a deep burgundy embroidered tail-coat, with black breeches and leather boots. He was feeling historical and rather theatrical today. Dressing in such elegant finery might elevate his mood, he thought.

When he'd finished changing, he considered the possibility of accessorizing with a sword, but decided not to go over the top with it. He hated the thin, little, useless dangly swords Pam kept in here, and anyway, his own personal sword, which he kept at home, would hardly look appropriate with this outfit, even if he did have it with him.

Incidentally his sword, or Wendy, as he preferred to call her, was some years older than he was. Nothing had ever come close to defeating the awesome lethal power combo of himself and Wendy, in human or vampire battles. At one time Pam was actually jealous of his relationship with Wendy, and used to mock him when he was cleaning or sharpening her. The jealousy turned to a sort of attention-seeking sibling rivalry within a few years after their relationship changed, and Pam still resented Wendy, even to this day. Most recently, her mockery had taken the form of a Gollum impersonation - “ _My Preciousssss...._ ”

Wendy was over 40 inches and almost 4 pounds of pure, unadulterated Viking joy. She was his sexy, double-edged, razor-sharp iron mistress of pain, and she could still slice the head off an Anglo-Saxon, if required to do so. Wendy wasn't really Wendy, of course, that was her modern name, just as Eric Northman was his. Her true name was Gæierlaug. _Vacker, gullig Gæierlaug._

His mind flashed briefly on Sookie in skimpy, furry Viking attire, wielding Wendy, running a finger down her shining blade. 

Eric was getting hard, so he pushed the Wendy/Sookie threesome idea to the back of his mind to be pondered on in more detail later, and began to concentrate on his hair.

Since he was taking so long, Pam came back to see if he'd changed his mind, and had decided to stay hidden in his office. He could hear her well before she entered the room.

“Eric, do I have to sing Careless Whisper to you? Or maybe some Celine Dion?” She opened the door. _“Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feeeeeel you....”_

“Pam, stop,” Eric said firmly. “As your maker I command you.”

Pam smirked before continuing. _“That is how I know you.... goo-wooon....”_

“Stop, at once, before I inflict severe punishment. I am dressed.”

“ _Near... fa...._ oh yes, so you are. And very dashing, too, I might add.” Eric was struggling to braid his hair with the thick sleeves of his coat getting in the way. “Are you trying to braid it? Sit down, I'll do it.”

Eric huffed and sat on one of the smaller chairs his guests used, so she could reach properly. Pam took the brush and began working.

“I wish you'd get a new car.”

“What?”

“Every time I see your car, _Little Red Corvette_ by Prince pops into my head and I'm humming it for ages. It is really quite annoying.”

“I cannot sell the 'Vette. What song by Prince?”

“You know. You must have heard me sing it.”

Eric turned his head slightly to look at her. He gave her an _'I dunno'_ face.

Pam rolled her eyes, as she continued with her braiding.

“ _Little Red Corvette. Baby you're much too fast....”_

“Pam, will you stop with the singing. You have the voice of a corporeal demon.”

“Do you know the song?”

Eric thought about little purple Prince, and tried to remember the song.

“ _Mm-m-mm-hmm-hm.... guess I shoulda known by the way you parked your car....da da da da...”_

“Yes, something like that! _Da da_....oh...” Pam had lost the tune again.

“ _Da.... da da... But it was Saturday night...”_

Pam smiled and joined in. _“I guess that makes it all right, and you said, baby...”_

“ _La la da du boo bah.”_

“Something about gas? Hmm...” They both got stuck again.

“Mm.” Eric raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I never made the link. I like the 'Vette, I don't want another car.”

“I'll buy you a new one. A nice big shiny one.”

“You'll buy me a new car just so you don't have to have a Prince song stuck in your head on a regular basis? Pam, that is extreme, I have to tell you. Just try to think of another song, or focus on something else.”

“I've tried, it's not that simple.”

Pam finished tying off Eric's hair and stood in front of him to check out her handiwork. Satisfied, she went to put the brush away. 

Eric went over and had a quick check in the mirror. Pam had on occasion given him some quite random style for a joke, and he'd not realized until it was too late. One time, he went into a particular relaxed state of downtime while she was doing his hair, and she backcombed it into a huge bouffant. He hadn't thought to check and it was like that for hours. Pam got some serious punishment for that one. He'd had pig-tails, ringlets, corn-rows. Eric sometimes felt like some sort of huge doll, that Pam loved to dress up and mess with.

He didn't mind it, really.

This time around, anyway, she'd done an excellent job with the hair. He took one last look at his reflection before heading out to the bar.

“Come on then, Pam. Amuse me.”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Eric was soon sprawled on his elaborate throne, looking mean and bored, and Pam came over and thrust a menu under his nose.

“How about one of Chow's new cocktails?”

“I saw the menu the other week. Why would I want a cocktail?”

“No, not the human alcoholic beverages. He's created a vamp cocktail menu, blood-based concoctions. He's been waiting for you to approve them.”

“Oh, really? Well then, let's see what's on offer.”

Eric read through the selection.

_Virgin Bloody Mary_

_Fairy Godbotherer_

_Screaming Telepath_

_Harvey Fang Banger_

_Plasmapolitan_

_Royally Fucked_

“What's in a Fairy Godbotherer?” Pam asked, over his shoulder.

“AB positive TrueBlood,” Eric read, “a shot of fairy blood, and a shot of blood taken from one of those Fellowship idiots. Hmm. I am assuming that they were a willing donor, Pam. We don't want any nasty legal battles on our hands.”

“Oh, I'm sure they were very willing,” Pam smiled. “This is a vamps only menu, by the way, humans and other beings don't get to peruse the vamp cocktails.”

“I see. Where the fuck did he get the fairy blood?” Eric's fangs ran out a little. “Chow.”

Eric hardly raised his voice at all, but Chow heard him, even over the booming music. He came over and gave a small bow.

“This cocktail menu is very interesting, but frankly I'm a little concerned about where and how you might be obtaining the ingredients. A Screaming Telepath.” Eric held up the menu. “Is that some kind of joke?”

Chow smiled, then saw the look on Eric's face, and he swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

“I am not amused by it. At all. Take it off, before I go fetch Wendy and take off your head.” He threw the menu at Chow. “And bring me a Royally Fucked.”

“I'll take a Plasmapolitan,” added Pam.

Chow retreated back to the bar. He would pay for his little dig later, Eric decided, but he wouldn't let his underling see how truly offended he was. One of their human employees, Belinda, soon came over with their drinks. They both took a sip.

“Hmm. Not bad.”

“Mine's a little sour,” said Pam, making a face. “So, how about we play a game or something?”

“Like what?”

Pam thought about it. 

“How about....” She smiled and leaned down to Eric's ear, whispering. “We have to get someone to say a certain word, without actually telling them to say it, or by going ' _give me another word for so and so_ ' or ' _what's that word that means what not_ '. First one to get the person to say the magic word wins.”

“What's the word?”

“How about cock?”

Eric shook his head. “Too easy. Every other word is cock in this place.”

“Shrimp?” Pam whispered.

“What? That's too difficult.”

“It's supposed to be difficult.”

“How about muffin?” Eric whispered back. Pam shook her head. “Plumage?” Eric offered.

“That's way harder than shrimp!”

“Fine, well just choose a more obvious one then, whatever, and we'll go with that.”

Pam thought some more, and then leaned back down to Eric's ear.

“Erection.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “I swear you have penises on the brain.”

“Penii.”

“What?”

“The plural. Penii. And I certainly do not have them on the brain.”

“The plural of penis is not penii, Pam.”

“Whatever. I think it is. English is not your first language, but it happens to be mine.”

“If I didn't know your sexual leanings better I'd say you were cock obsessed. Or perhaps you have penis envy?”

“Oh please. Not everyone has to be obsessed with penii. Especially yours.”

“At least 75% of the people in this bar _are_ obsessed with my penis, actually. At least. Right, shall we begin? What does the loser have to do?”

“If I win, then you have to sell the 'Vette. You have to replace it with something boring, like a nice reliable blue hatchback.”

Eric groaned. “No way.”

“Oh come on. What, are you scared you're going to lose?”

“I do not lose. What about when I win? What do I get?”

“Whatever the fuck you want, because you're losing, looooooser.”

“OK. Tomorrow evening, you have to wear a fake beard all night and you have to slide across the floor all the time, pretending you are ice-skating. And every sentence you utter you have to finish with the phrase 'I'm a cheeky monkey. I want banana'. No exceptions. Oh, and you have to do a dance, perhaps the running man, or some sort of body-popping, on the bar.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “I only had one thing, you should only choose one.”

“Yes, but I have more to lose, since I love that car, and I will have to replace it with an embarrassingly dull one. My forfeit is much worse.” He smiled faintly at her pouty face. “Scared are you? You were very confident before.”

“As if. Bring it on, Daddy-O. You're going down to Loser Town.”

Eric gave a slight smile.

“Thalia.”

The grouchy yet elegant vamp wandered over, and bowed.

“Why don't you sit by me.” Eric gestured with his hand. “We have not spoken for a while.”

Thalia stepped up and sat in the chair to Eric's left.

They began conversing, and Eric soon swung the conversation in the direction of sex. For vampires, talking about sex was like humans talking about what they had for dinner last night, or what new show they saw on TV. It was a perfectly natural topic of conversation, and they didn't spare the details. Pam knew she needed to act quickly, or she'd be having a very embarrassing evening at work tomorrow. She excused herself and stepped down, away towards the bar. They would still hear each other, so there was no way either of them could cheat.

“Chow, give me another one of those cocktails. I'll take a Fairy Godbotherer.”

“Coming up.”

“Oo, coming up!”

“What?” Chow pulled a confused face.

“I don't know. Sounded rude, didn't it?”

Chow shook his head and reached for a bottle. Pam scowled. She could hear that Eric and Thalia were already talking about the benefits of tantric sex. She needed to work fast.

Chow placed Pam's cocktail in front of her. 

“One Fairy Godbotherer.”

“Chow, is that a stake in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”

He looked down, checking himself.

“I don't have a stake in my pocket, Pam.” Just to make sure, he dipped his hands in, and pulled out nothing but loose change, some fluff, and a little scrap of paper.

“I didn't mean it literally, Chow. I meant, you're packing a, erm...” She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head in the direction of his man bits.

He looked down again, totally confused. Pam sighed.

“A big weapon.”

“Do you mean my cock, Pam?”

Pam gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes up. Why hadn't they gone for cock? It wouldn't have mattered, she admitted to herself. Eric would've got Thalia to say cock by now.

“So, Chow,” Pam wiggled her eyebrows and looked at him conspiratorially. He leaned on the bar and moved in a little closer. “I saw you looking at that fang banger with the purple hair earlier. She was hot.”

Chow smiled. “She was, very hot, yes.”

“She had very pouty lips, like Angelina Jolie. Are you a fan of the big pouty lips?”

“Oh yes, I like big pouty lips.”

Pam smirked and nodded her head.

“Mm. I'll bet you were thinking nasty stuff while you were looking at those lips. Am I right? Am I right? Huh? I am, right?”

“Er, I guess I might've been,” Chow shrugged. “Probably, yes.”

“Hm-mm. I'll bet she turned you on.” Pam's eyes widened, and she nodded her head at him, urging him to disclose more information, say the word. _Erection. Erection._ “I can see even now the thought of it is making you excited.”

Chow gave her another confused look, and shook his head at her odd behavior. He briefly looked down at himself again.

“Are you suggesting I look like I have wood, Pam? Is that why you believed I had a stake in my pants?”

Pam gritted her teeth. _Oh, come on, come on, say it, say it._

“I'm sorry?” Pam said, innocently.

“Do you think I have a hard on?”

_Chow, you fuckwit, say erection._

“A what?”

“A hard on.”

Pam cast a brief glance at Eric, who smirked and gave a slight shake of his head. Hard on was not acceptable. She turned back to Chow.

_Say the word, say the word._

“I don't know what that means, Chow, sorry.”

“You don't know what 'hard on' means? Somehow, I doubt that very much, Pam.” Chow began to wipe down the bar. She was losing him.

She turned to check on Eric and Thalia again, just as she heard her say “he could keep his erection for more than 3 hours.”

Pam's fangs ran out as she let out a roar, and all heads turned in her direction. Eric smiled triumphantly.

“Thanks a fucking bunch, Chow, you idiot.”

“Huh? What did I do?”

“You were a waste of space, as always. Absolutely useless!”

“What? You just keep suggesting I have an erection, I've done nothing.”

“Oh, _now_ you say it! You are so going to pay for this, Chow.” She threw the dirty bar cloth in his face, and turned on her heel.

Eric dismissed Thalia, and Pam resumed her position by his side.

“I think I deserve a celebratory cocktail,” Eric smirked. He held up his glass and nodded to Chow, who got onto it right away. “Oh, Pam. Pam, Pam, bearded, ice-skating, body-popping monkey Pam. Victory is sweet.”

“Can't I just wear the beard?”

“The beard, and the body-popping. I will be merciful.”

Pam downed her Fairy Godbotherer, just as Belinda dropped off Eric's Royally Fucked. She placed her empty glass on the tray.

“Another one, Belinda. And keep them coming.”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

“So, Alcide is....” Pam had never met Alcide, but she'd seen pictures, after she'd been checking up on him on the web last night. “He's interesting.”

They were in Eric's office, and Pam had just removed her fake beard (a tasteful little Cavalier one). She'd done her dance on the bar at the end of the night, when there were only a few drunken stragglers left. Eric had been incredibly amused, and Chow had laughed until he cried bloody tears of joy.

Eric look at her confused.

“No, he's not interesting at all. He's a fucking were.”

“Perhaps I should have said he was... _striking_.”

Eric shook his head a little before responding.

“I suppose, if you like that sort of thing. As weres go he might be almost tolerable.”

“I'm sure he will take care of Sookie.”

“Yes, he better had.”

“Of all her _needs_.”

“Yes.”

Pam sighed.

“Her _lady_ needs.”

“Hmm. What?”

“Oh come on, Eric. Do I have to spell it out for you? Single, vulnerable, emotional Sookie. On her own in a strange town. On the rebound. Yes, I'm quite sure he'll look after her.”

Eric stared at Pam for some time. 

“She will not be there for long. She has a job to do, and she will do it.”

“I hope she will.” She sat back and sighed. She looked at her nails, which were perfectly manicured as always. “All on her lonesome, with Alcide, all big and rugged and hot.”

“He has a girlfriend doesn't he?”

“No, he doesn't, they broke up. It's all gotten a bit messy between them, so I hear, and she's shacked up with some new guy. In fact I think she might be engaged to him. You know what weres are like. Fickle dumb-ass psychos.”

“How do you even know this stuff?”

Pam looked away, slightly embarrassed. 

“I lurk in some of the were blogs.” Eric responded with a low grumble and a shake of the head, which added to her shame. “I like to keep abreast of supe-business. Ignorance can be very dangerous, you taught me that. Look, the point is, they are both on the rebound. Alcide is quite attractive, for a were. Did you really think this one through?”

“I... of course I did.”

“Hm-mm.”

“Sookie wouldn't do that. She isn't like that.”

“Hm-mm.”

“Stop hm-mm-ing, Pam. She can read were minds, you know. He's bound to think rude thoughts about her, like, how great her breasts are and how perfectly they would fit in his large hands.” Eric gestured with his own, making a 'honking' motion. “Or how fantastic her lips would look wrapped around his cock, something dirty and uncouth like that, and that will put an end to any of his nasty little ideas.” Eric grinned triumphantly.

“Sure, if it makes you feel better. You should be thankful she can't hear _your_ thoughts.”

Eric growled. “Indeed.”

“You don't think she can, do you? Like maybe she can read vamp minds but she just doesn't tell us about it, for fear of retribution?”

Eric considered this, but then shook his head. “No. There's no way. If she had heard my thoughts, she would either have succumbed to me by now and jumped me, or she would have slapped me, on numerous occasions. There would have been some sort of strong reaction, either way. She might have done something similar to you, and she would surely have dumped Bill long ago.”

“Perhaps it's just Bill she can't read, since he doesn't have much going on in the brain department anyway. Maybe _that's_ the reason she likes him.”

Eric thought about it and shook his head again. 

“No. I've tested this by thinking very rude thoughts while speaking with her, purely for experimental purposes...”

“Of course.”

“...and she doesn't flinch. Well, her response is no different to that when I am not thinking these things at her. If she could read me, or if I had spoken these things out loud to her, she would have yielded. I would have at the very least, smelled her arousal.” Pam shook her head. “No one can resist my seductive sexy talk, Pam. I am the ultimate panty-soaker.”

“Well, like I say, I'm sure Alcide will take care of her. Even if they do have sex, that's no big deal, right?”

“Of course not.” Eric shrugged dismissively, but didn't do a very good job of looking nonchalant. “Sex between consenting adults is perfectly normal. As long as he is good to her, and gentle, and treats her with respect, unlike that idiot Bill. And so long as he doesn't impregnate her with some awful hairy were baby.”

“She's a modern, independent woman, after all.” Pam looked at him, anticipating his eruption.

Eric was suddenly feeling incredibly anxious.

“I should not have trusted a were to look after our telepath. She is far too valuable to me.” He corrected himself quickly. “To us, to the area. I'm going to check up on her.”

He shut down his laptop, and stood, reaching for his jacket.

“I didn't mean... Why don't you just call her?”

“Because I can hardly protect her from here, can I? You can handle things from this end, I will phone you when I get there.”

“But you will be unable to announce yourself and follow protocol, you will be trespassing in another area. Think rationally, Eric. You are not considering the consequences.”

“No one will even know I'm there,” Eric smiled. “I will go undercover, and simply blend into the background. Like a stealthy vamp-ninja.” Pam still looked unconvinced. “Hairy Herveaux will be of no help to her at all, and if things go wrong, then Bill is dead, the queen is royally pissed off, and we are at best growing new limbs for a year or so.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you remember when you lost the tip of your pinkie to that were-cheetah? How painful it was, how long it took to grow back?”

“Oh, the itching!” Pam whined.

“So uncomfortable. Well, imagine losing a leg, or two.”

Pam had a pained look on her face.

“You should get going now. I can handle things here.”

“I'm gone.”

Eric made it to Jackson in super-quick time. In fact, it was a new personal best.

  
  


  
  


  
  



	7. Wet Patches and Gravel Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the end of Club Dead

Eric wandered into the bar just before opening time, and made his way to his office. 

“Doo doo-doo Corvette....”

He opened the door of his room to find Pam sitting behind his desk, chuckling away to herself as she wrote on some note paper. She glanced up, and then continued scribbling.

“I thought you were taking the night off?”

“I was, but I got bored.” Eric hung up his jacket, tipped her out of his chair onto the floor, and then settled back into the seat. Pam stood and went to sit in the chair opposite.

“You missed me.”

“Like I miss getting headaches and defecating,” Eric mumbled.

“You're such a liar. I know you missed your Pam Pam.”

Eric picked up the piece of paper Pam had been laughing at. “What's this?”

“Oh, it's a Dear Abby letter I wrote for Chow. I'm going to send it in, see if she can't offer him some words of wisdom.”

Eric read through it and smirked.

“Very nice.”

“So. Give me the news,” Pam said. “You hardly called me at all while you were in Jackson. I felt left out of all the action.”

“Firstly, tell me what has happened here.” Eric put his feet up on the desk and got himself comfy. “Did I miss anything? I trust you have been taking care of everything while I've been gone.” 

Pam sighed. “Absolutely nothing happened. It has all been very dull.”

“You missed me,” Eric smiled.

“Like I miss that recurring bout of thrush I had in 1846.”

“Of course you missed me. Things are always much more boring without your big ball of Viking fun around.” 

Eric settled back in his chair with his hands behind his head. Then he looked around his office, and suddenly became aware that things were different. Tidier. Pinker. Pam noticed he was scanning the room.

“What?”

“What the fuck did you do with my office? Can I smell potpourri? And why is there a lace doily underneath my desk organizer?” He picked up a pink pen with a fluffy pom pom on the end of it. “Pam, you need to get your pink girly shit out of my office. I've only been gone a few days, and it looks like Hanna Montana threw up in here.” He pointed to his sofa. “Embroidered throw pillows?”

“Yes, yes, all right. And it's not potpourri, it's one of those Glade Plug-Ins, Enchanted Forest scent. It was smelling quite stale in here. I would've had it all sorted by the end of the night, you came back early.”

Eric sighed. _Enchanted forest?_

“Anything at all _remotely_ interesting to report?” he asked.

“The queen called for Bill earlier, she is infuriated because he is not returning her calls. Looks like you rescued him just in time.”

“I did not rescue Compton, Pam. Sookie did.” He was not ashamed to admit this, he realized. He was proud of her.

“Really? How very enterprising she is. I think this is my influence, rubbing off on her. And Bill being saved by a human waitress? Well, that's just about what I expect of the feckless nerd. He's going to need to call the queen. She wants whatever he's been working on, and she sounded grouchy.”

“Excellent. I want us all to meet, tonight, at Sookie's house. We will remind Bill to call her then. He may have already spoken with her, but if he hasn't, we can make her wait a little longer, since it is sure to infuriate her further. Bill is sure to get a thorough telling off.”

“Why can't we meet here? Why do we have to go all the way to Sookie's house?”

“She is injured, and will not be able to make it here. I think it would be appropriate to have a debriefing.”

Pam snickered.

“Not that sort of debriefing, Pam.”

“How is the Sookie de-briefing situation?”

“Briefs, panties, brassieres, all kinds of underwear, still remaining in place.” This had been true, after all. Eric had no intention of elaborating on what actually happened between them right now. 

“And the Alcide situation?”

Eric waved a hand dismissively.

“Perhaps some mutual attraction. Unfortunately for Alcide, he has no hope of competing with me, in any department, and he also appears to have quite a demanding and psychotic ex, Debbie Pelt. He made the foolish schoolboy error of pretending to Miss Pelt that he'd had sex with Sookie.”

Pam had already read something about this on the were-blogs she'd recently been checking out. They were such ignorant assholes with very pathetic lives and exceedingly low IQs, in Pam's opinion. Their grammar and spelling was laughable, but their little pack fights and relationship issues were actually rather entertaining, like a cheaply made and badly scripted soap-opera that you just can't help but tune in to. Pam was hooked. 

“Really? How disrespectful. She didn't, did she?”

“Of course she didn't.”

“Weres are such idiots. Does Sookie know about what he said?”

“Yes. She was not particularly impressed.”

“And Bill?”

“Again, she was not impressed.” Eric smiled.

“She is a very forgiving creature, though, do you not think?”

“I doubt very much she will forgive him this, do you? And even if she does, can she trust him as her lover again? I think not.”

“Hmm. And you said there was some kind of problem on your way back, and at her house last night?”

“Yes. First, we were jumped at a gas station on the way home.” Pam raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Not something I want to talk about. Sookie showed herself to be quite capable with a shotgun, and I glamored one of the idiots into telling me who sent them.”

“She can fire a shotgun?”

“Yes.”

Pam looked suitably impressed. Sookie was indeed turning out to be more than simply a perky waitress.

“What then?”

“Then there was a shit load of weres waiting for us at her house. I got shot and Sookie got beaten. Compton and I had a grand old time massacring them. I think that's the most fun I ever had with Bill.”

Pam pouted jealously.

“Oh, you and your BFF Bill had a nice time draining some dirty weres? Did you get all horny afterward and soap each other up in his big antique claw-foot tub?”

“Shut your face, Pam. I can have fun killing things without you, you know. And don't mention myself, Compton, and soap together in the same sentence ever again.”

“What happened to Sookie?”

“As I say, she was badly beaten, which is why I need you to go over to her house, and help her with her human needs.”

“Excuse me? You need me to what?” Pam looked at him as if she had misheard.

“She is in quite a state, I doubt she is barely able to move. She might need some help before we visit her tonight. I don't know if she has anyone else around to help her. You are a female, whom she knows reasonably well. She might let you give her a hand.”

“What? Like, fix her a vessel of some sort of soup, and do toilet things?” Pam pulled a face. Such tasks were very much beneath her.

“Look, I trust you to just aid her as she needs it. Be nice to her. Do not be inappropriate, and do not leer at her or misbehave if she has to get partially or even fully naked.”

“You want me to nurse a human?”

Eric gave her a glare. Pam went to say something more but Eric held up his hand.

“Just do it.” 

He began opening some mail that was in his in tray. Pam just sat and watched.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Eric asked, before waving a hand. “Sookie's. Go.”

Pam huffed and rose from her seat. She was mumbling all the way to her car.

Eric looked at the phone and considered calling Sookie, to let her know Pam was on her way. He wondered how she was feeling. He wondered if she'd allow him to heal her. Instead of dialing her number, though, he dialed another.

“Bill.”

“Yes.”

“Be at Sookie's house at 8:30.”

“Oh. All right. Tearing up those weres last night was excellent sport, Eric. I thought that...”

_Click._

Eric wasn't in the mood for conversation, least of all with Bill. He sat back in his chair and thought about what had happened. 

He had had a seriously busy few days. Going undercover in another area, searching high and low for your stupid, dullard underling, surviving an embarrassing silver net incident, receiving multiple gunshot wounds and taking on a gang of weres really can take it out of you. Even if you are 6 ft 4 inches (maybe more, it was really dependent on footwear and the tousled-ness of hair) of kick-ass Viking magnificence. He'd seen a lot of tasty action.

Yet all he could find himself thinking about was a certain blonde telepath.

What a little marvel she was turning out to be. And how brave and determined. She'd aided Herveaux in hiding the body of a were, survived a serious staking, taken out Lorena, and rescued Bill. In the midst of all this madness, she also had the strength and drive to _almost_ have sex with him.

_What a woman._

And then, she'd decided she'd save the day and been all kick-ass at that gas station (which might have given him a semi, if he was being truthful about it, even though at the time he'd been incredibly embarrassed about the whole silver net situation). He'd accidentally on purpose blurted out in front of her that she was his future lover, after hitting one of their attackers when he mentioned Sookie's boobs. Eric scowled at the memory and regretted not damaging the nasty little breather in a more permanent way. 

The 'future lover' comment had confused her a little, which had infuriated him for some reason. In fact, they'd had what almost amounted to a 'lover's tiff' on the way back to her house, and it had gotten even more heated when they arrived. He'd insulted her, apparently, though not purposefully, and she'd totally snapped and said she was done working for vampires. 

Then there'd been the were fight, the like of which he hadn't enjoyed in ages, which had turned into a bit of a blood-bath. Poor Sookie was now a complete mess, her beautiful body quite badly damaged. 

It had indeed been a very, very eventful evening. Quite exhilarating, in fact. Truth was, he'd never felt so alive as he did when he was around Sookie. Every inch of him pulsed when she was around, not just his cock, and quite bizarrely, more recently, he felt a need to comfort her, and soothe her, and care for her. Not just to get her into bed. 

_What the fuck was all that about?_

Eric had no intention of analyzing these random and and quite frankly, disturbing emotions right now, and instead decided to turn his attention to memories of more physical pleasures.

_If only Bubba hadn't walked in._

Eric closed his eyes as he recalled their all too brief liaison at Russell's mansion. The perfect, warm, wet feel of her, writhing on his fingers. Their mutually wild and natural desires taking over, the physical need so intense for them both. She had been ready to yield and Eric was more than ready to give her what she needed. He would give her more pleasure than she had ever experienced before. He had no idea what Compton was like in this department, but he was guessing it was nothing to write home about. Eric wanted her to scream his name, to pleasure her over and over again, in ways she never even believed possible. There would be no going back from that. She would never want another lover. She would finally be his.

Sadly, it was not to be on this occasion. The King of Cock-block n' Roll had seen to that.

Eric recalled how she had drank from him. To have his little bullet-sucker take his blood once more was just simply divine. He'd come all over her back like a teenager shooting his load over the Victoria's Secret catalog, completely unable to control himself. And then his fangs had lightly brushed her skin, and she was off the bed, like a spooked kitten. A kitten sporting a suspicious looking wet patch.

_Fucking fuckety fuck fuck. Fuck._

Eric lowered his head to his desk and banged his forehead on the surface a few times.

_Idiot._

It was hot. Very hot, in a shameless, dirty way which he never usually had an issue with. But it was just not what he intended. Plus, he needed so much more.

Eric was a very patient being. But his patience was wearing thin. He was quite sure that they were going to be together, but he would need to have Sookie very soon, or his balls might explode. Or implode. Either way, it was going to be messy, and it would result in the final demise of his thousand year old testicles.

He beat his forehead on the desk a few more times.

His mind flashed on an image of her, dancing with her friend at Club Dead. Winding her hips, wiggling all those wonderful jiggly areas. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her. He was completely and utterly mesmerized at her wonderful, wild, joyful display. Who thought anyone could dance so sexily to Pat Benatar?

He wanted to watch her dance again. Every night. In private.

Eric shook himself out of it. Sookie had done what she had set out to do, and she had done well. Bill had been rescued and the queen was none the wiser, it seemed. It was regretful that she had ended up getting a severe beating. The least he could do, he thought, was get her driveway fixed.

His intention had been to show his appreciation in a much more physical, intensely pleasurable manner. But after their tense drive back to Bon Temps, Eric's complaints about the state of her driveway were the final straw for Sookie, it seemed. Eric resolved to give her what she most desired right now. If that wasn't to be him, and his considerable bedroom talents, then it would have to be something a little more practical, but perhaps no less satisfying. _Nah_. Who was he trying to kid? Gravel was a poor substitute. Still, it would have to do for the time being.

Sookie admitted she couldn't afford it, and she wasn't going to take any payment for her time in Jackson. He couldn't just give her the money to do it, since she'd think he was insulting her, again. Compton wasn't going to do it. What had Sookie said? He was spending all his money on the _frickin' Bellefleurs_? Why the hell would he be spending his money on some distant relatives who hated him, instead of his beautiful, loyal girlfriend? Strike that. _Ex-girlfriend_. Again, Bill slipped further down in his estimations. 

Eric had never given the gift of gravel before. He figured it was a nice gesture, a 'thank you' for her help, a sort of apology (though he still wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for), and a whack around the back of the head for Bill, all at the same time. And she could hardly give it back, even if she wanted to. Also, he wouldn't have to curse and drive so carefully each time he came to visit her house. Which he was intending to do, more often, with possible multiple stay overs. Soon.

Very, very soon.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

“Well hell-ooo gorgeous.”

Eric cocked an eyebrow at the obviously drunk female were who was standing over him, gripping on to the table of his booth. Non-vamps very rarely approached him sober, unless they were proper fang bangers, and knew not to taint their blood too much with alcohol. He wasn't sure exactly what to make of this creature.

“Good evening.”

“You're Eric Northman, right?” she slurred.

“I am. And you are?”

The inebriated were leaned closer to him and Eric fought the urge to back away. She smelled like incense sticks and sandalwood, with a hint of eggs and a trace of mustard. More prominently, she smelled like vodka and tequila. She had short, brown hair, parted at the side, and Eric thought she seemed like a taller, broader, more masculine-looking were-version of Hitler, sans toothbrush moustache.

She touched the end of his nose with her forefinger. Clancy, who was sitting opposite Eric, immediately stood, ready to strike, and there were a number of gasps and concerned mumblings circulating around the room. Eric stared back at her coolly.

“I'm the woman of your...” She hiccuped, before continuing. “Dreams, baby.”

She squished his nose, before poking at his cheek, and falling over onto the floor, where she hiccuped again and appeared to pass out. Eric looked at her with disdain, and leaned down to her.

“I very much doubt that, darling,” he whispered. “Unless it was that dream I had where a drunken were vomited on my shoes.”

Some of her group came over and picked her up, looking embarrassed, and offered apologetic smiles, before quickly dragging her off. Clancy sat back down.

“Who the fuck was that?”

Eric shrugged.

“Do you want me to deal with them?”

“No, it's fine. So what were you saying, about this prediction the Ancient Pythoness gave you?”

“Well, she said something about the fact that I would meet my final death at the hands of a being born of water, some crap like that, I don't really remember.”

“What else?”

“That I should never drink from type O Negative humans, because it's bad for my chi, and my skin, or some such nonsense.”

Eric smirked. “Hmm.” He knew that Clancy stayed clear of the O Negs, and had often wondered why.

Pam drifted over and sat down beside Clancy.

“What are you two talking about?”

“The AP.”

“Oh, Old Pythy?”

“Yep,” Clancy said. “The Pyth Meister.”

“Pythykins. El Pytho. What about her?”

“Have you ever had a prediction from her, Pam?” asked Clancy.

“No, not that I believe any of that stuff, anyway. Eric did though, didn't you?”

Eric rolled his eyes. He hadn't intended on letting Clancy in on this. Pam had such a big fucking mouth.

“Yes,” he groaned.

“Really?” Clancy's interest was piqued. “I didn't know that. When was this?”

“It was at an Amun summit six years ago.”

Eric didn't really want to elaborate further, but they just sat there staring at him.

“She told me that my soul mate would find me,” Eric mumbled. “When I needed her.” He squirmed a little.

“Tell him the rest,” Pam pressed.

Eric shook his head. “She was off her tits on fairy-juice that night. Completely obliterated. She had no idea what she was saying. It means nothing at all. You don't even believe in it, Pam.”

“I know. But it amuses me.”

“Go on,” Clancy urged.

Eric sighed. “She told me...” He hesitated, wondering how he could make it sound any less sappy than it did. He looked around to check who might be listening, and leaned forward. “She told me I would find my heart again. That I would be saved. And that I would be king.”

“Whoah.” Clancy was impressed. “That was way better than mine.”

“She tells everyone the same thing,” Pam scoffed. “She told Long Shadow he'd be king too, and look what happened to him.”

“Are you suggesting I won't be king one day Pam?”

“No, of course not.” Pam began back-peddling. “What I mean is she says the same stuff to everyone, she just changes it up a bit each time.”

“She didn't tell me I'd be king.” Clancy was still miffed.

“So what?” Pam waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn't matter, it's all a pile of crap anyway.”

“I agree,” Eric said. “It's bullshit. _Soul mate._ Like I have a fucking soul anyway, or a need to be 'saved'. She said a lot of random crap that evening. In fact, I do believe she tried to come on to me. She definitely touched me inappropriately on a couple of occasions. She licked me, as well, when she was whispering in my ear.”

“Eww.” Pam put her hand over her mouth and looked like she was attempting to refrain from vomiting.

Clancy shook his head.

“That is... just... awful.”

“Indeed. Not pleasant,” Eric agreed.

“She didn't lick my ear.”

“What?” Eric shook his head at Clancy. “Why, did you want her to?”

“No, but she told you that you would find your soul mate, _and_ be king, _and_ she came on to you. I got some nutritional advice and, happily for me,” he gave some happy jazz-hands, “I know I'm going to meet my final death by fish. Whoopee. Not so much as a grope. I'm just saying, that sounds like she fancied you and was being biased, since you got a much better deal than I did.”

“Really, Clancy, there is no need to be jealous,” Eric said seriously. “I'm sure if you went and offered yourself to her she'd oblige you with a good tonguing. Or perhaps something a little extra? Then she might give you a more sufficient prophecy.”

Pam snickered. Clancy huffed and took a gulp of his blood.

“Well...”

“I didn't try to charm her. I just happen to have this effect on the ladies, even the mad, ancient, blind, drooling ones.”

Pam looked at Clancy, and could tell he was seriously considering seducing Pythykins. How could anyone really believe in this stuff? Eric could also read his intentions in his face.

“Seriously, it's not worth it,” Eric said. “Even if you do locate the AP and give her a good seeing to, who's to say she would give you a better prediction?”

“Yes,” Pam agreed. “It might get worse. Depending on your ability to satisfy her needs.”

Eric and Pam smirked at each other, and Clancy made a retching face. Then Eric downed his blood and stood. He made his way across the bar, towards his office. He cast a few dangerously seductive, panty-melting glances at some customers as he passed them, for shits and giggles.

He closed the office door behind him, sat behind his desk and shuffled some paperwork. He stared at some figures, but couldn't concentrate.

Sookie was certainly going to be his lover, of that there could be no doubt. The connection was strong, and she wanted him just as bad, he knew this. He had felt it.

But was it remotely possible.....?

Eric shook his head. The dirty old AP had said _she_ would find _him_. It hadn't worked that way. Sookie had appeared at the bar with Bill. 

It was completely absurd to believe in any of that shit, especially when it was spouted by a drunken AP. There was no possibility that the future was already planned out, Eric thought.

You choose your own path.

  
  


V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

  
  


Dear Abby,

  
  


I have a very unusual problem that I am hoping you can help with. I am a vampire, and as I am sure you are aware, we have quite a reputation for being incredibly alluring to humans and seriously hot in the sack. Well, I never had a problem at all picking up the fang bangers, in fact, I was quite the Romeo. That was until I began working with my colleague, Pat Crowsloft. 

Pat is a seriously red-hot blonde bi-vamp, and since we began working together, I hardly see any action at all. No one barely casts me a glance, even when I try to be extra flirty and seductive, and show off my elaborate tattoos. Pat gets all the pussy, _and_ cock, and I don't get a look in. She makes me look and feel pathetic and completely emasculated.

Last week, all I could manage was a fumble with a balding fifty-eight year old Risk Management Officer called Colin. And that was only because Pat had rejected him earlier in the evening for being too flabby and smelling like dog biscuits. The most exciting sexual encounter I've had this week was when I thought someone pinched my butt, but when I turned around and winked I realized I'd just caught my pants in the cash register. 

Not only is Pat more attractive and sexy than me, but she is also far more intelligent, stylish, successful, popular, and amusing than I am, and she could take me in a fight if I were armed with a four foot long stake and she had little more than one of those tiny pencils you get in Ikea. In fact, she wouldn't even need the pencil, it would be totally superfluous, since she can reduce me to a quivering wreck with little more than a glance. She's quite simply more superior in every way, and would most likely win a contest for the most brilliant and talented vampire, such as Vampire Idol, or the Vampire Olympics.

I am completely in awe of Pat and yet loathe her and her apparently limitless and effortless talents. I am losing all confidence in myself and my sexual prowess. I just don't know what to do. Please, please help.

  
  


Chow, Shreveport, LA.


	8. The Tiny Red Bikini Briefs of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just before Dead to the World

Eric walked into Fangtasia and bypassed his office, and carried straight on into the bar. He heard music pumping, and they were not even open yet. He could feel Pam's presence, and went to investigate.

“ _A little bit of Rita's all I need, a little bit of Tina's what I see, a little bit of Sandra in the sun, a little bit of Mary all night long...”_

Pam was standing in front of the bar, which had a lot of papers on it, and she was singing along to _Mambo Number 5_. She was also doing some booty shaking, and a little side to side arm movement dance, like she was shaking some maracas.

Eric threw his head back with laughter.

“Ha! Work it, Pam.”

“Eric!” She quickly twirled around and scowled at him, before moving with super-fast speed to switch off the music.

“You did not feel my presence, or realize I was here? Did I teach you nothing? You should be more careful, I could've snuck up and staked you. You were too distracted with your little dance.” Eric smiled and mimicked her moves.

“I locked the door. Why are you here early?” Pam asked, crossly.

“Can I not come to work early? Don't get all defensive, just because you are all embarrassed about me catching you busting out your moves.”

“I am not embarrassed.”

“What are all those?” Eric nodded to the papers, before walking around the back of the bar to pick out a bottle of blood from the fridge. “You're not bombarding Abby with letters again are you?”

“Training notes. I am considering doing some customer service training with the staff.”

Eric popped the bottle into the microwave before he turned back to Pam and leaned on the bar.

“Customer service? Is it not the customers who usually service us?”

Pam rolled her eyes. If Eric had seen Pam roll those eyes once, he'd seen it a million times.

“Running a successful business is all about pleasing the customer.”

“What? Running a successful business is about making money, Pam. Our customers come here for the experience, to escape their dull little lives, and to ogle me, this is what pleases them.”

“Well, I think some of our staff could do with a few pointers, that's all. We have had a lot of injuries lately, and sooner or later we're going to get caught and have a nasty legal battle on our hands.”

“That's what we do here,” Eric said. “That is what you do all the time. For fun. This is what glamoring is for. The customers do not come here to be treated well. This is a vampire bar. We're not supposed to be all ' _yes, I am a thousand year old vampire,_ _thank you for staring at my ass,_ _have a nice day_ ' and ' _oh, I'm sorry, did I just drain you to within an inch of your life? Please accept these complimentary jello shots_ '. Where's the fun in that, Pam?”

“I don't mean that we stop having fun, and start being polite to the sniveling humans. I just think that it wouldn't hurt to cut down on some of the unnecessary violence. We get too many undercover cops in here.” 

“Whatever. If it pleases you. By the way, where did you rush off to last night?”

“I told you I was leaving early. I had a date.”

Eric raised an eyebrow.

“You had a date? With who?”

“No one you know.”

“Was it that Sunday school teacher, with the nice legs, and the potty mouth?”

“No. I forgot about her. I should definitely call her up.”

The microwave pinged and Eric retrieved his blood. He shook it before taking a swig. He looked at the bottle.

“This is really, really bad.”

“Why do you bother to drink it, then? It's not like you have to drink that much anyway, and you can sip on the customers later. Are you trying to mainstream like Billbore Baggins?”

“No, of course not,” Eric said, defensively. “I am just... thirsty.”

Suddenly, Chow strode in. He was holding the arm of a petite brunette, with heavily made up eyes and a penchant for black PVC, netting, and studded leather accessories. Typical fang banger fodder.

Chow bowed slightly before speaking. 

“Sheriff, Cindy here has some information I think you might be interested to know.”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

“So, just let me get this straight one more time.”

Eric was sitting in the middle of the bar, and Pam and Chow were standing close by. Cindy, who had a particular thing for Chow, was sitting in front of Eric, looking a little scared.

“A coven of witches has arrived in Shreveport? Am I getting this right?”

“Yes.”

“I see. And you know this because...” Eric nodded, urging Cindy to explain.

“My sister's a Wiccan. She heard about them, and she's afraid of them. Apparently, they're crazy, and more powerful than anything my sister ever heard of before. We were in Shreveport, the other day, shopping at DSW. There was a sale on...”

“A sale?” Pam asked. “When did that start?”

“I think maybe, er...”

“It does not matter,” Eric urged. “Just get on with it.” 

“Well, me and my sister, we saw this head witch, and her brother. My sister pointed them out to me. They're quite noticeable.”

“What was she buying?” Pam asked.

“Strappy sandals. I think they were gold.”

“Hmm. Like the flat, gladiator type, or heeled?”

Eric half turned in Pam's direction. “Will you shut up about the shoes?” he snapped, before turning back to Cindy. “What then?”

“Well, I saw her again, last night, in that fake vamp bar, _Donors_.” Eric shook his head and Pam tutted. “I overheard her talking about how she was going to be taking over Fangtasia, what she'd do with the décor, how she'd get rid of all the tacky posters.”

Eric stared at her angrily, taking offense. The posters were not tacky. They were kitsch. Big difference.

“And?”

“And so I mentioned it to Chow. I like the bar as it is, and I don't want it to be taken over by witches. I like things just as they are.”

She smiled up at Chow lovingly, and he nodded his appreciation.

“And this is all?” Eric asked firmly.

“Yes.”

Eric looked at Chow, who he presumed had glamored all the information out of the young fang banger earlier.

“That is all,” Chow confirmed.

“I appreciate you sharing this information, Cindy.”

She smiled and looked pleased with herself. She guessed she might get some special reward from Chow later, since she'd been so good. Chow took her by the arm and escorted her out.

“So, what do you think?” Pam asked Eric.

“I think perhaps whatever advice Abby offered worked for him. Chow's definitely getting a piece of that this evening.”

“Hmm. Unless I make a move on her. And the witchy news?”

“Witches are trouble, and I hate them. They are reckless, and they stink of patchouli. I do not like the sound of this.”

“Me neither.”

“See what you can find out, Pam. Let's try and stay one step ahead.”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Later that evening, Pam was sitting in the accountant's office, doing some research on her computer. She had turned up very little information on this new coven, and was getting frustrated. She was just considering going out into the bar, when there was a knock at the back door, and she got up to go answer it.

She opened the door, and a pair of rather tall weres, one male and one female, were standing in front of her.

“Staff only,” she snapped. “You need to go around the front.”

Pam went to close the door again, but the female held it open. She was strong.

“No, I don't think so. I don't do lines. I'm here to speak with your master.”

Pam did not like to be spoken to this way, least of all by weres. She resisted the urge to rip off her head.

“Call and make an appointment.”

Pam pushed at the door again, but some unseen power was keeping it open. Neither of the weres were even touching it.

“I want to see him _now_.”

When she spoke that final word, her voice went all deep and echoey, like something out of a bad horror movie. Pam pulled a confused face, poked her head further out the door and glanced around, checking for some kind of microphone or other equipment.

“Did that noise really just come out of you?”

“Yes.” Again with the Exorcist voice.

A distinctly magical smell drifted under Pam's nose. She knew it wasn't the Glade plug-in she'd installed recently. That was more pine-based, this smell was much more spicy. Pam brought her hand to her face and wafted a little.

“Just what do you need to speak with my master about?”

“Oh, just a few business matters,” the female said, cheerfully and in a more regular voice. “I shouldn't take up too much of his time.”

Pam sighed internally. This was bad news, she could sense it.

“And you are?”

“Hallow.”

Pam looked confused. 

“Hello.”

“No, Hallow,” the witch pressed.

“Yes. _Hallo_ to you too.” Pam raised her voice this time, speaking each word clearly. “What is your name?”

“Hallow.”

 _Oh great,_ Pam thought. _A comedian, as well. Fucking witches. Fucking weres. Laugh a minute._

“Look, whatever. I will see if he will receive you. Follow me.”

Pam knocked on Eric's office door once.

“Come.”

Eric had already heard their little exchange, and looked up from his paperwork. He looked over the two weres, both tall, muscular, dark-haired, and dressed in almost identical outfits of black turtle-neck sweaters and slacks. There was something else about them. The unmistakable smell of magic. Plus they were both butt ugly.

“This is, um, Hello, and,” Pam gestured to the male, and shrugged. _Goodbye?_ “They insisted on meeting with you.”

Eric looked at them, his gaze calm and steely.

“I am Hallow. This is my brother, Mark. I realize making an appointment would have been more polite, but I'm keen to get this over with as soon as possible. I hope you understand.”

She smiled at him in a rather disconcerting way. Partially flirty, partially maniacal. Eric thought he recognized her from somewhere, like perhaps he'd seen her in the bar. 

“I am Eric Northman, the owner of this bar. What is this very urgent matter you need to speak with me about?”

Hallow leaned forward in her chair, and cleared her throat.

“I hear that you are quite successful, powerful, wealthy. I hear other, very interesting things about you, too, which I'm keen to know more about. You have quite a reputation.” She gave him that weird flirtatious smile again, and batted her eyelids a little, but Eric did not respond. “I'll cut to the chase, Mr Northman. I am the head witch of a very powerful coven. I want your bar, and I want a large share in all your businesses. If I don't get what I want, I will ruin you.”

She sat back in her chair again, grinning. She looked to her brother, and he grinned back and gave her a wink.

Eric looked at them both and considered his response for some time before speaking.

“Are you two a couple of mentalists?”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

As soon as the two were-witches had finally left, reluctantly and without anything they came for, Pam collapsed into the chair in front of Eric.

“Well, that went well.”

“Who the fuck do they think they are?” Eric spat. “Coming into _my_ bar, telling me they're taking a percentage of _my_ profits, and threatening me. Me! I'm almost speechless.”

“Well you heard what she said. They will cause all kinds of trouble for us if we do not comply. We will be ruined.” Pam flung her hands up in despair. “Everything we have worked for.”

“Oh stop being such a whiny bitch, Pam. They are idiot were-witches. I just need some time to think about this.”

“She finds you attractive, she was eye-fucking you the whole time they were here. Perhaps you could seduce her, and manipulate her into changing her mind.”

“What? And then when I kick her out of bed and dump her hairy were-ass she'll be fine about that, do you think? She'll move on, without any form of revenge, after she has had a taste of what the Northman has to offer? _Not_ a good idea, Pamela.”

“Well then what do we do? Perhaps if you just flirt with her a little, treat her nice, buy her some,” she waved a hand, “oh, I don't know, brooms or rats or whatever one buys a witch. Go to second base. Keep her keen for a while, and in the meantime we find a way to get rid of them.”

Eric shook his head.

“She looks like an ugly man. Her brother with the perm and the porno tache might even be slightly sexier, and more feminine.”

“They are quite a pair of weirdos.”

“I don't think I could manage getting to first base with her, let alone second. You do it.”

“I wasn't the one she was drooling over.”

“You could seduce her brother, then. Porno-tache were.”

“No chance.”

“This is for the greater good of the bar, and our business. As your maker I could command you to do it.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Wouldn't I?”

Eric raised an eyebrow.

“The perm, Eric.” Pam pleaded with her eyes.

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair.

“We will save the seduction to use as a last resort. I need to think. Go home, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Don't make me hump perm-tache-boy.”

“Home.”

“Did you see how high he wore the waistband of his slacks? And his cheap shoes?” Her lip quivered slightly. “He smelled like pigs and mold.”

“I will think of something. Neither of us will need to screw freaky were-witches. Go to your rest.”

Pam hesitated at the door, her eyes filled with concern. Then she turned and closed it behind her.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

When Pam got to the bar the next day, there was a young were-witch waiting at the back door. _Great._

“Can I help you?” _Fling you off a cliff? Rip off an arm and slap you around the face with it? Dress you in a decent outfit?_

“Hallow sent me. I'm here to deliver a message to Eric Northman. My mistress has a compromise.” 

Pam gave her a cool stare. “Wait here.”

She unlocked the door and strode down the corridor, and knocked on the door to Eric's office.

“Yes.”

Pam stepped in and closed the door behind her.

“One of the witches is here. She wants to speak with you, about Hallow's terms.”

Eric growled.

“Bring her in,” Pam turned, “and Pam.”

“Yes?”

“Where is Bobby? My laundry hasn't been done for weeks, and I'm almost out of underwear.”

“He is on vacation, you know this.”

“He's been gone for too long.”

Pam wondered what sort of state Eric's house might be in.

“The cleaners have still been coming by, haven't they?”

“Yes, but no one has picked up my laundry, Pam.” He was very unhappy.

“Well, I'll get someone to do it. Don't panic.”

“And my underwear is depleting, it's like someone is taking it. Even with the lack of laundry, I've noticed. It just disappears.”

“Hm-mm.”

“I am down to the dregs.” He counted them on his fingers. “All that is left is those novelty thongs you bought me for a joke, the boxers with the cartoon characters, some day-glo patterned bathing trunks, and very, very small, tight bikini briefs. Today I had to wear that red pair I wore when we had that Baywatch party at your house.”

Pam smirked.

“You made a fantastic Hoff.”

“Fuck the Hoff. Where is my underwear, Pam?”

“Can you not go commando?”

Eric sighed and looked irritated. “Around the house and on particular occasions this is perfectly appropriate, and yes, I certainly enjoy the freedom and comfort of swinging freely. But you know I need the support. Things get out of hand down there,” he pointed at the unruly parts with both fingers. “Quite easily.”

“Who would be taking them? And how?”

“I have no clue. It may be a serious security breach. I'm thinking of installing some of those tiny hidden cameras.”

“I doubt this is necessary. Has anything else been taken?”

Eric shook his head.

“Well then it does not make sense. Perhaps you forget to put them back on on your way out of whichever bedroom you are frequenting on any given night.”

“I have accounted for such losses. Do you think it's the cleaners? My underwear, Pam.”

“We will get to the bottom of it.” Pam smirked. “The bottom. Bottom, underpants.” Eric did not respond. “OK, admittedly, it wasn't that good. I will buy more, and we will sniff out your underwear thief.” Pam snickered again. “Sniff, underwear. Sniff your underwear.”

Eric sighed, and shook his head.

“This is serious, Pamela.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, anyone would think you'd had a collection of priceless jewels stolen. Now, can you speak with this witch?”

“Send her in. Chow.”

Pam went to retrieve the young witch, and Chow came into the office. A little extra intimidating vamp-muscle wouldn't do any harm. The witch entered, sat in front of him, introduced herself as Serpentine, and relayed Hallow's message.

“Seven nights, entertaining my mistress, and she will greatly reduce the amount she intended to take from you.”

Chow looked to Pam with some concern. He knew very well the dangers posed by witches. Eric, on the other hand, could barely contain his anger.

“I don't have sex with witches, or weres.” _Telepaths._ He had sex with _telepaths._

“Well, perhaps in this case you would make an exception?” 

“I might be one of the greatest lovers to ever grace the Earth, but even I would find it difficult to get hard for that sorry hag.”

Pam gasped. Eric ignored the sound and continued.

“Even if she were to wear a bag over her head, and I watched some porn or something at the same time, honestly,” Eric shook his head, “I don't think I could get it up for one go, let alone seven nights. And there is absolutely no chance of me finding alternative ways to pleasure her.”

“You will be very sorry if you turn down my mistress' demands. She is being very lenient and honoring you by offering this compromise.”

Eric scoffed, and his anger flared. What did these witches know of honor?

“There is absolutely no way I am fucking that ugly mare,” Eric responded. Pam flinched and lifted her hand slightly, and he could tell she was trying to get him to stop. Eric was aware he was being incredibly insulting, and that it was potentially dangerous, given the reputation of witches, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He was not going to be blackmailed by nasty little were-witches. “I am no whore, and even if I were, I would not lower myself by accepting dirty witch custom.”

The young witch's eyes widened in anger, and she gritted her teeth.

“This is your final answer?”

Eric smiled slightly. “Yes.” He leaned forward, and stared at her with a lethal expression. “I am Eric Northman. I am not to be trifled with, or bargained with, or played with. If you come here again, or try anything foolish, I will fuck your little coven up, and take great pleasure in tearing each and every one of you limb from limb. Now, get the fuck out of my bar.”

She merely smiled. 

“Eric, do you think we should talk about this first?” Pam asked.

“Not really, no.”

She looked to Chow, urging him to say something.

“Perhaps we should consider bargaining further?” Chow offered. “A compromise? Three days, instead of seven? Pam, maybe you could do a couple? Rotate?”

Pam glared at him, and then turned her attention back to Eric, who was merely staring at them both very coolly.

“No kissing?” she offered.

“There will be no bargaining,” he shouted, and brought his fist down on his desk with such force that he left a visible dent in the wood. “You will go back to your sorry little coven, and deliver my message. You will never, ever cross my path again. I hope I have made myself quite clear.”

Pam and Chow looked at each other, trying desperately to think of some sort of alternative plan. Eric rose from his seat and went over to his closet.

“Now, if you wouldn't mind,” he kicked off his boots and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, before continuing. “I have a bar to manage and it is due to be open in five minutes. It is New Years Eve, in case you haven't noticed, which is a particularly busy night. I have no more time to waste on witches.” He stepped forward and leaned over her, and she smiled as her eyes took in all of his half-naked glory. “There's the door. Get. The fuck. Out.”

The young witch grinned up at him. “You vamps are the dumbest sons of bitches I ever knew.”

She stood and reached into her jacket, her movement swift. Chow moved in a blur, and had her around the neck in the next instant. And then Eric was gone. Chow let go of the now dead witch, and her limp body fell to the floor with a thud. He and Pam stood there, looking around the office, dumbfounded. Finally, she turned to him.

“Way to go, you idiot fuck.”

  
  


  
  



	9. Bill's Peruvian Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the end of Dead to the World

Pam strode into Eric's office, not bothering to knock. Eric was laid out on his sofa, motionless, staring at the ceiling. He didn't look at her, as she stood over him, hands on her hips.

“Eric, there is a minion here from Dallas, Peter Penhausenschnausen, with his child, Betty. He's visiting the area and has come to check in with you.”

Eric sighed.

“Pam, that is not a real name.”

“What? Betty?”

“No. The other one. You never get the names right. Didn't you store him in your vault?”

“Well, I don't know, it was something like that. He seems a bit dull and unimportant. I wasn't really listening. Shall I send him in?”

“No. Take his details and say I am otherwise indisposed. He can come back tomorrow, if he wishes.”

Pam looked at him, lying there, with a troubled look on his face. She considered slapping him around the chops with one of his flip-flops and telling him to get his shit together. In the end, she decided against it, though, since she had only picked him up from Sookie's house last night, and he was obviously still confused and disoriented. Instead, she perched on the edge of the sofa next to his legs.

“Look. I know it must be difficult, not remembering what happened. I'm sure it will come to you, even if we are unable to recover your memories some other way. This is surely much better than having no memories at all, as you have only lost a few days. At least you know who you are now, and who I am.”

“Have you told me everything?”

“Everything I know, yes.”

“You were being very vague when it came to some things.”

“I was not with you most of the time, how can I know what you were doing while I was not there?”

“How did I seem when you visited me at Sookie's house?”

Pam gave a slight smile. “I believe she took good care of you. You looked clean and well-groomed and rosy-cheeked. Think of it as a short, mysterious vacation where you get so drunk you can't remember what you did, and the photos don't develop properly.”

“You keep smirking at me when I ask about Sookie. Do not think that I am not picking up on it. I am not blind, Pamela, and I know that face. You are keeping something from me.”

“I am not. Why are you making such a big issue of this? We dealt with the witches, and you are yourself again. Look, all I know is that she fed you, clothed you, kept you hidden, and so on. Everything turned out fine.”

Eric grew quiet and thoughtful again. Everything _had_ turned out fine, or at least as well as could be expected. He still felt incredibly troubled. After he'd gotten home, he'd given himself a detailed forensic examination. He'd discovered that Sookie's scent was all over him, _all_ over him, like a second skin. He'd had her blood again, he was reasonably sure of that, and their bond had definitely gotten stronger. Added to that, the strange clothes he had been wearing had been curiously spattered with brain matter. Oh, and there was a hole in his shirt, where he'd obviously been shot. Pam had not mentioned any such injuries being sustained during the battle.

“I am still missing memories. I need to speak with her. She must tell me what happened.”

“Maybe you should leave it a day or two.”

“Why?” Eric's response was immediate and short.

Pam shrugged and shook her head a little.

“Let things settle down, get back to normal.”

“Do you think I had sex with Sookie?”

“I... I do not know for sure. I would think it quite possible, wouldn't you? You appeared to become very...”

“What?”

Pam tried to choose her words carefully. 

“Close.”

“Close?”

“Yes. You were not quite yourself. You seemed to...” Again with the careful word choice. Eric was growing impatient.

“Pam!”

“I don't know. You seemed to _need_ her.”

Eric's eyebrows drew together in concern.

“How do you mean, _need_?”

“Perhaps because she was the only one you could trust, as you did not know who anyone was, even me, and she was the one who found and offered to help you. You spent a lot of time together. She was like your... anchor, while you were at sea.” She pursed her lips together, trying to refrain from saying anything more for the moment.

Eric's face grew more concerned. Of course he cared for Sookie, in his own way. But this was different. He had not _needed_ anyone, well, ever, unless you counted his human parents, when he was a child, and of course, his maker, Appius, when he was first turned. The idea was quite alien to him.

“Should I bring you some dinner? That might make you feel better.”

“I am not hungry.”

Pam sighed. 

“You will feel better soon. This was quite a trial for us all. I did not know whether you would ever be yourself again, or whether we would all meet our end. You had me worried.”

“You did a good job, Pam.”

“Well,” she smiled. “It is good to have you back.”

She gave him a light tap on the leg and got up from the seat, adjusting her black pencil skirt.

“Pam.”

“Hmm?” She turned back around.

“Was I... did I do anything embarrassing? Anything I should be ashamed of? Was I... weak?”

“No, of course you were not weak. How can you even suggest such a thing? You were yourself, without your memories or experiences. You fought like the warrior you are, and you did not bitch about anything. You dealt with everything honorably and with the bravery which is befitting of you. Your behavior was impeccable, in what were very trying circumstances. There is absolutely nothing for you to be ashamed of.”

Eric relaxed a little at these words.

“Good.”

“I am pleased you are back to your usual self. We can put this whole incident behind us and move on. I had some hair pulled out, you know, and I lost an earring. I broke a nail, as well!” It grew back again, very quickly, as did the hair, but still, the inconvenience and memory of the breakage was grating on her even now. “Fucking were-witch bitches.”

“We lost Chow.”

“Yes.” She had not realized that she would mourn him as much as she actually had. She would need to find someone else to rip the piss out of, and soon.

“He will be missed,” Eric said, quietly. “He was a good vampire. Strong, loyal, and... he made a good cocktail.”

“He did.” Pam bowed her head and tried to think of something appropriate to say. “He also had... lots of tattoos. And nice silky hair.”

“Very silky, yes. It was.”

“Very.”

“Like... black, hairy silk.”

They paused for a moment.

“We will need to find a replacement,” Pam said, finally.

“Yes. Get on to it.” Vampires were nothing if not practical, and a new bartender would need to be found. Eric stood and went to sit at his desk.

Pam put her hand on the door handle, and turned again. “Are you sure I can't bring you some dinner? There are some tasty-looking dishes in this evening. How about Italian? Thai?”

“No. Truly, I am not hungry.”

“Fine.”

“And Pam.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You are... your skills, you showed yourself to be very capable, in my absence. You have grown to be a quite spectacular vampire.”

A rare ripple of emotion came over Pam, and her throat tightened in response. She was so happy to have Eric back, and to have made him proud.

“Check your e-mails. You have work to catch up on, and I sent you a link to a new mainstreaming video, Peruvian style. Well worth a look. I'd better go get rid of Petey Pintzenschnitzel.” She gave him a wink and closed the door behind her.

Eric gave a slight smile. He waited a moment, and then lifted his hand to his face and sniffed his wrist. The scent was fainter now, since he had showered. He pulled at a lock of his hair and sniffed that, but mainly smelled his shampoo (Herbal Essences Dazzling Shine). He lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt and ran his nose down the full length of his other arm. He caught a trace of honey and cream and sunshine, and something deep inside him cried out for Sookie. He inhaled more deeply. The smell of her was like being wrapped in a comfortable furry blanket, and the scent made him feel warm, and safe, and loved.

He fought with himself for about ten minutes. Finally, he slipped on his jacket, and flew to Bon Temps.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V 

“ _Whoah, whoah there.”_

Bill slowly appeared from the right of the camera, riding a llama. It took him a few tries, but he tugged on the reins, and finally got the animal to stop.

“ _Hi there. My name is William Compton. I was made vampire in 1868.”_

He patted the llama's neck, before turning back to camera.

“ _I'm here in the beautiful country of Peru.”_

The llama started twitching and shifting nervously, while making honking noises.

“ _Today, I'm going to talk to you about how to mainstream on vacation.”_

The llama started bucking, and Bill had to grab onto it's hairy neck. The camera followed, as the animal went trotting off down a dark dusty road, Bill riding it like a bucking bronco.

“ _Whoah!”_

Eric flung his head back and laughed out loud, rocking back in his office chair. _Oh_ _Compton, you absolute tool._

The next shot saw Bill in full Peruvian outfit; a straw hat, brightly colored striped poncho, and white pants. He was standing at the end of a line of Peruvian musicians, playing panpipes and small guitars, in front of what looked to be a municipal fountain. Bill was joining in, blowing into some panpipes. The song stopped abruptly, and suddenly all that could be heard was Bill blowing raspberry noises. Someone laughed and a couple of people clapped.

“ _Oh! Ha,”_ Bill smiled.

The Peruvian musicians were not amused. Bill turned to camera, slightly embarrassed.

“ _With the latest developments in vampire travel, it is so much easier these days to visit different places, and experience other cultures. Visiting new countries can be a very rewarding experience for those of us who are attempting to mainstream.”_

Bill handed over the panpipes, and one of the men snatched them off him. They began to talk amongst themselves, and Bill drifted out of shot, slowly side-stepping like a crab.

Next, the camera was watching him as he climbed some stone ruins by moonlight, quickly and with little effort. When he reached the top, he smiled at the camera, and was pretending to be tired and out of breath. He ran a hand across his forehead in mock-fatigue.

“ _Phew! Remember, wherever in the world you are visiting, you are representing our kind, and should always be respectful of cultures and lifestyles different from our own. For example”_ , Bill laughed, _“in some more rural and remote villages here in Peru, humans compete to make the biggest pom poms.”_ He shook his head. _“They wear crazy bowl hats, and they think the poncho is more stylish than a nice sports jacket. Lots of them are missing important teeth,”_ he added, seriously. _“Still, you shouldn't let these things stop you from integrating with the locals, and learning about their unique ways of life.”_

“Fucking idiot,” Eric mumbled. 

The camera cut to Bill sitting at a table in what looked like a small cantina, clapping along as a couple of the locals did some sort of traditional dance. He turned to the camera, smiling.

“ _Here in Peru, I have been delighted and overwhelmed by the kindness and warm welcomes I've received. I have also visited many beautiful historical sites, such as Machu Picchu, and have enjoyed a relaxing canoe ride on Lake Titicaca.”_

Eric snorted.

“Titty.”

“ _Many tours can now be taken at night, and even small establishments like this one stock synthetic blood for vampire tourists. So there is no danger of being caught short and having to sample the local cuisine.”_ Bill laughed at his little joke, and an old lady who had been dancing beckoned him with her hand.

“Oh, no,” Eric said out loud to himself. “He's not actually going to... oh yes, yes he is.”

The camera panned as Bill began dancing with the old lady, linking arms with her and an old man, and they began to move in a circle, kicking their legs.

Eric watched for a little while longer, shaking his head, before he paused the video and wrote on the comments wall.

_Bill Compton has sex with toothless old Peruvian grandmothers. And llamas._

He went back to catching up with some paperwork. A few minutes later, when he was going to check the rest of his e-mails, he noticed that another comment had been added after his.

_Who is this? If you do not like mainstreaming, Vamptastic12inch, then perhaps you should visit some other website._

_MainstreamBilly1868_

Then another appeared.

_Here here!_

_VeggieVamp4Eva_

Eric smiled and typed another comment.

_Sorry, is this for real? I thought it was a piss-take. Drink some real blood, you pussy._

There was a knock at the door.

“Come.”

It was Bobby Burnham, Eric's daytime lackey.

“Ah, Bobby.”

“You called for me, sir?”

“I did.” Eric lifted a bag from beneath his desk and pulled out a large, brown duffel coat. “What the fuck is this?”

“You asked me to purchase a warm, ladies winter coat.”

“I think my directions were a little more specific.”

“Hmm?” Bobby cocked his head, feigning confusion.

“This is a shapeless brown woolen duffel coat, two sizes too big. I said red, top of the line, stylish, and sexy, yet warm and practical. Would you say that this coat matches that description?”

“I think it's very sexy, actually.”

“Really?”

“Should I take it back, and purchase something more appropriate?”

“No. I will do it myself, since you cannot be trusted to purchase a ladies coat.”

Bobby started to get all twitchy and started stammering.

“B-but the lady at the store said it was one of their best sellers.”

“What store was it? _Hideous Brown Coats R Us_? Do not make such a foolish error of judgment again.” Bobby's lip quivered slightly, and he looked like he was going to start crying. Eric just couldn't cope with grown man weepage. “Look, just do something useful, will you? Go to my house and sort out my laundry.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And Bobby, do you happen to have any idea what might be happening to my underwear?”

“Your underwear?”

“Yes,” Eric sighed. “It keeps going missing, and I am not happy about it. I believe as a result of said underpant losses I may recently have been placed in a very embarrassing red bikini brief predicament.” He couldn't be sure Sookie had seen them, but where had they gone? They must surely still be at her house. He had checked the machine on her back porch when he'd been round the other day, but had only found her blood-spattered blue coat. He cringed inside once again as he remembered the tiny red Hoff briefs.

“I'll get onto it, sir.”

“That will be all, Bobby.”

He backed out the door and closed it behind him.

Eric looked at the horrific brown coat and shook his head. He thought about asking Pam to buy something suitable, but even though he knew she'd pick well, she'd ask too many questions about the purchase of a coat gift for Sookie. Instead, he turned back to his laptop, and typed 'designer ladies coat' into a search engine. He spent the next 3 hours shopping online, agonizing over which red coat Sookie would like best.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V 

The following night was Monday, a quiet one for the bar, which was closed to the public tonight. Pam walked into Eric's office. She was wearing a tight, skimpy brown leather studded outfit, and a long brown wig.

“Oh, I don't believe it. You're not even ready.”

“What?” Eric asked, not looking up from his desk.

“You know what. I told you, we're having a special party for Clancy's 100th vampire birthday. Fancy dress, heroes and villains. Don't pretend like you forgot.”

Eric leaned his head back and groaned.

“Pam, I already said, I am not dressing up. Clancy's not 100 anyway, he's 94. He lies about his age. I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like... important sheriff matters. You left some things in quite a mess, Pamela, particularly these staff rotations. What happened?”

Pam crossed her arms and stomped a little.

“It was unbelievably busy, there were all sorts of problems. People calling in sick because their limbs had been bent back in strange directions, and so forth. On top of which, I was trying to keep you safe with Sookie, figure out how to break the curse, _and_ get rid of the witches. I broke a nail, I lost some hair...”

“An earring...”

“Yes! I did. It was a very trying time for me.”

Pam pouted again and they just stared at each other for a few seconds.

“Are you done?” Eric asked.

Pam took an unnecessary deep breath and exhaled.

“Yes.”

“Now, do you want to tell me what this is really all about?”

“What?” Pam's eyes became distinctly shifty.

“Do not think that you can get one past me. I was not born yesterday. I was born in the 11th Century AD. Spill it, Pam.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

“You would not allow me to go out into the bar earlier, and you are doing the shifty eye thing. Also, as I have already told you, I know that it is not Clancy's 100th vampire birthday.”

“He said it was.”

“Is this party for me, perchance?”

Pam had been rumbled, and she knew it.

“Why do you always ruin it!”

“You know how I hate surprises. I have no idea why you thought this would be a good thing to do. I was always going to find out, anyway. You are quite hopeless when trying to keep something from me.”

“I thought you could do with some fun, that is all. I think we have reason for celebration.”

Eric noticed that Pam looked a little upset that he was not more excited about the party, but he just couldn't face a large group of people tonight.

“I am not in the party mood, Pam. Perhaps you could come around to mine, after work, and we can celebrate on our own. We can get Boggle out, or Jenga, or Guitar Hero. You can do my hair, and take Polaroid photographs of me cooking, or dressed up like a lady. I know you like that.”

Pam pursed her lips, considering it. “That does sound like a fun evening. But everyone has been invited. I will look like a fool if you don't turn up to the surprise party I organized for you.”

Eric groaned.

“Pam.”

“When you walk down the street, other vampires will point at you and laugh and go ' _look, there he is, that vampire who made the fool child who could not organize a surprise party'_. Come on. Get your outfit on. Cleo's already here, and I invited some of the other sheriffs. You need to put on a good show.”

They stared at each other.

“No.”

There was some more staring. It turned into a sort of stare-out competition. Pam finally caved in and looked away, stamping her foot.

“Eric, it took me ages to find your costume. Just come out for half an hour.”

“I don't like my costume, it's stupid. Why did you get me that one?”

“It's perfect. Come on.”

Eric sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

“Pam...”

He was going to tell her to fuck off out of his office, but when he opened his eyes again and looked at her, she had her bottom lip out, and her eyebrows were drawn together in a sad puppy-type way. He hated it when she did that.

“Don't give me that face.”

“ _For me?_ ” she pouted. “ _Your little Pam Pam_.”

“You are pure evil. I cannot believe that I created such a monster.”

Pam smiled. 

“Everything is in the closet. You will look fantastic. I will send one of the staff in to help with the fake tan. Remember to be surprised.”

She closed the door behind her before he could have a chance to argue.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

The party was already well under way when Eric finally emerged from his office. 

“Surprise!” Everyone cheered and raised their glasses.

“Oh, no. I wasn't expecting this. What a surprise,” Eric said, woodenly. “As you were,” he ordered, and everyone went back to what they were doing.

The bar was busy with guests, all invite only, with just a selected few fang bangers allowed. It was mostly vamps, with a few specially invited supes. There was a large banner across one wall, which read ' _Congratulations Sheriff Northman on breaking your curse and defeating the idiot witches_ '. Some of the human staff were wandering around with trays of blood and other drinks, and Eric plucked a cocktail glass full of blood from one of them.

Pam saw him, smiled, and drifted over, with Cleo Babbit in tow. Cleo was dressed in full ornate Egyptian get-up, complete with severe black wig.

“Eric. Glad you see you are well, and all is back to normal in Area Five.”

“Cleo. Thank you for coming. Nice outfit. You're... Cleopatra?” 

“Of course. But I'm having a little trouble working out who you're supposed to be.” Cleo looked him over. Eric's outfit was scant to say the least. He was wearing a loin cloth and some sandals, and a short-sword attached to a leather strap across his back. Oh, and a lot of fake tan.

“Jesus?” Cleo guessed.

“I know,” Pam said. “Jesus, you really do look tanned.”

“No, I meant is he supposed to _be_ Jesus?”

“Jesus did not have a sword,” Pam scoffed. “He was a pacifist.”

“Hmm. Are you a gladiator? That Russell Crowe?”

Eric shook his head. It was a terrible choice of costume, nobody was going to guess. Pam had obviously been stuck for ideas.

“No,” he sighed.

“Well, whoever you're supposed to be, you're looking fine, as usual. The tan really works.”

Pam nodded and they exchanged appreciative glances.

“I can't believe you got me wearing fake tan. This had better wash off.”

“Of course it will,” Pam said, looking unsure.

“OK, I give in,” Cleo said, finally.

“I'm Spartacus.”

Pam grinned.

“No, I'm Spartacus!”

Someone else piped up.

“No, I'm Spartacus!”

“I'm Spartacus.”

Eric rolled his head back and closed his eyes.

“Pam, you made me wear this just so you could do that joke.”

Pam was still grinning when he finally opened his eyes.

“Oh...” She wiped away a little bloody tear. “It was a good one.”

“I don't get the tan,” Cleo said.

“Kirk Douglas, in the film. He was so tanned he looked crispy, don't you remember?”

“Hmm, yes.”

“Running about in loin cloths all day in a hot climate, you're bound to get a tan.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Did you run around in loin cloths, back in the day, Eric?” Cleo asked.

Eric shook his head a little and considered retreating back into his office.

“No,” he sighed. “I was a Viking, from Northern Europe. I lived in quite a cold climate actually. The more clothes the better. We were quite civilized and advanced you know, not these raping, pillaging savages we are made out to be.”

Cleo gave him a look that could be interpreted as ' _who blew smoke up your ass?'_ and turned to Pam.

“So, Pam, I thought you were going to dress up as Hermione Granger.”

“I was, but then I heard that someone might be coming as ' _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-N_ _amed_ ' and thought better of it. I didn't want any unnecessary unpleasantness.”

Eric had zilch interest in Harry Potter and took the opportunity to move on. Darth Vader was standing at the bar, looking lonely. Eric wandered over.

“Clancy.”

Clancy was in the full black outfit, complete with mask and voice changer. He did the heavy breathing before speaking.

“Good evening, dark master.” He did more heavy breathing. Eric thought he was going a little over the top with it, if he was being honest, but it was a costume party, so he decided not to mock him like he usually would. Not many people knew, but Clancy was a closet Sci-fi nerd. He went to those Star Trek conventions and everything, and could speak fluent Klingon.

Eric noticed that Clancy was holding a bottle of TrueBlood, but hadn't taken a drink.

“How are you going to, er...” Eric pointed at the bottle and then made a circular motion with his finger around his mouth.

 _Heavy breathing._ “How am I...? Oh, the drink?” _Heavy breathing_. “There is a little hole in the mask for a straw.”

Eric paused. “Did you need me to... get you a straw?”

 _More heavy breathing_. “Oh! Oh, I see.” Clancy looked at the bottle. He turned to the bar. Gerald was tending, in the absence of a replacement for Chow, and he was dressed as Frodo Baggins. “Frodo,” _breathe_. “Do you have a straw there? Mine seems to have gone astray.”

Eric looked at Gerald and shook his head.

“Did Pam get your outfit too?” Eric asked.

“Yes. She said she would get me Freddy Krueger, then she says there were only Hobbits and nuns left.” Gerald handed Clancy the straw. “I knew that Maxwell Lee was already coming as Mother Teresa, so I really didn't have much choice.”

Eric looked over the bar.

“Have you got the big hairy Hobbit feet?”

“Yes, look.” He lifted his foot and placed it on the bar. It was bare and indeed hairy. “Pam used real hair.”

Eric pulled a face. “That's disgusting. Feet off the bar, Gerald. It's unhygienic.”

Clancy was struggling with the straw, which was poking out of the mask, but he couldn't get the other end into the bottle. He was moving his head and the bottle, trying to find his target, but he couldn't see properly.

“Why don't you just take off the mask for a bit, while you have a drink?”

_More heavy breathing._

“And will you quit it with the breathing, like you have asthma or something. I never understood what was supposed to be so scary about a man with a shiny black head, a button nose and a cape, with breathing problems.”

Clancy moved his head like he was thinking about responding or putting up an argument, but he didn't. Instead he just kept fiddling with the straw. After watching him for a little longer, Eric grabbed the bottle and put the straw in for him.

There was a sucking noise coming from the helmet, and Eric watched some of the blood disappear from the bottle. 

_Heavy breathing._ “It's gone cold now.”

“Oh, God.” Eric rolled his eyes. He disengaged the straw and slapped Clancy around the side of the helmet.

“Ow.”

“Who is Pam supposed to be?” Gerald asked.

“Xena Warrior Princess. She's always had a thing for Lucy Lawless.”

“It's a nice outfit.”

Eric looked over at Pam. She was talking with Cleo's Area Three second-in-command, Tariq, who was dressed as the Incredible Hulk. He thought about how magnificent Sookie would look in a skimpy leather bra. His mind wandered to other potential sexy heroine outfits for Sookie; Princess Leia (when enslaved by Jabba the Hut), Claire Bennett from Heroes (cheerleader), and of course, one of his own personal favorites, Lara Croft, the busty archaeologist. Lots of very pleasing costume options. 

He wondered if Pam had invited her, and if so, why she hadn't come. Perhaps she was working, or she would turn up later on.

He did his rounds, greeting his guests and reluctantly made some small talk with them. Sookie never appeared, in any of his fantasy outfits, or even her Merlotte's uniform (the summer version of which had actually made it into a number of his fantasies). He left early, and when he got home, he had to spend more time on Bill's mainstreaming website, cheering himself up by mercilessly ridiculing his underling.

Unfortunately, the following day he discovered that his account was blocked, and his comments had been deleted. He had to set up a new account, and decided to use a new name.

He came up with a number of anagrams of his name, including Thin Romancer, Inert Monarch, Rich Ornament, Neon Rim Chart, Thin Crone Arm, More Inch Rant, and Cream Horn Nit. He finally settled on Mr Hot Crannie, logged in again, and typed on the comments wall.

_Bill Compton + panpipes + poncho = mainstreaming idiot Peruvian fashion faux pas._

 

 


	10. Tracey: Cutlass of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the short story Dracula Night and before Dead as a Doornail

“Well, that was certainly an exciting party. No one can say that we don't put on a good show here at Fangtasia,” Eric said, closing the door to his office behind him. Pam and Sookie were both in there, sitting on the sofa. He had just finished getting cleaned up, and had donned Pam's fluffy pink robe which she kept there for emergencies. It was quite short, of course, and he could've dressed in any number of more appropriate outfits, but a little display of leg could be forgiven, and he enjoyed the pink softness.

He slowly walked towards his desk, rubbing at his wet hair with a small towel. The reaching action really made the hem of the robe scoot up, he was more than aware of this. There would be a lot of exposed thigh on show. He sat down in his big leather swivel chair and ignored Pam's smirking. The front of the robe gaped open, revealing his magnificent chest and perhaps some nipple. _His ladies wouldn't mind._

“Quite entertaining, wouldn't you agree?” He directed his question at Sookie.

“Oh, very,” she replied, with a hint of embarrassment.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Um, enjoy what?”

“The party, of course,” Eric smirked. “What else?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sookie shook her head. “Well, I mean no. I staked that vampire. That wasn't so enjoyable.”

“No? Well, he deserved it.”

Eric was still reeling. Some wannabe dared to infiltrate his bar, then 'declared' himself to be Vlad Tepes, stripping off to reveal some random sparkly catsuit (seriously, who was this fool?) and made all sorts of outrageous demands, including one to drink from Sookie. Eric had been momentarily taken off guard, only because he'd expected the Dark Prince to actually turn up, but Sookie had cleverly sniffed him out as an imposter and rammed a stake into his stupid, sorry heart. Eric had helped see him off, with a swift tap to the wood.

“Well, I had an absolutely wonderful evening,” Pam said, stoney-faced. “It's a shame all the guests had to leave so early. Sookie, are you sure I can't get you something else to wear? Eric has very rudely taken my robe, as you can see, but I have other things you could change in to. I have a new red corset which I believe would suit you very well.”

“No thanks. I've cleaned up as much as I can, and it's not so bad.”

Pam cocked her head to the side and gave her puppy dog _Pam Pam_ eyes.

“Sure?”

“I'm fine, honestly Pam.”

“Well then, I'd better supervise the removal of what remains of Mr. Spangly Catsuit,” Pam said, before getting up and standing over Sookie. “Such a cute dress, too. Still, the heels can be saved. You need to learn to step back just before the point of impact, and direct the blood flow away from your outfit, when the need arises.”

Sookie stared back at her a little shocked.

“Thanks for the advice, Pam. I'll be sure to try and remember that, next time I'm staking a vampire in my best party dress.”

“Any time, sweet cheeks.” She gave her a wink, before wandering out, closing the door behind her.

Eric looked over at Sookie, flopped out tiredly on the sofa, her lovely pink dress spattered with blood.

“Are you sure you are alright?” he asked with some concern. “You have had quite an evening.”

“I'm okay. I just feel a bit drained.” Sookie laughed at the word, and Eric's lip curled up into his lopsided smile. She took another gulp of water from the bottle she was holding.

“Thanks again for inviting me to your party, by the way. I’m sorry the real Vlad didn’t turn up, and that I staked someone in your bar. Maybe he’ll visit next year, huh?”

“Perhaps. I don’t really care.”

“Yes you do,” Sookie teased. “You were like a little kid at Christmas when I got here, all excited and freaking out about the special blood you had to get for him, and whether you'd got enough. It’s nice to see you, ya know, having fun.”

“I was not freaking out.”

“You were, a little bit. I thought it was kinda cute.”

 _Did she just call me cute?_ Eric thought. There was an uncomfortable silence. Eric finally rose from his seat, stretching his unbelievably large, long limbs, before heading for his closet. He opened the door and looked inside.

“Your quick thinking was impressive,” he said, flicking through the rail. “Good job you did your homework on the Prince of Darkness.”

“Yeah, I guess so. He wasn't very convincing, though, I thought. I'd have probably staked him anyway, since he was out to bite me.”

“Always the survivor. Even the real Tepes might have trouble taking you down. No vampire is safe when Sookie Stackhouse is around, wielding a deadly weapon.”

“Hey, I only killed two. With Lorena I got lucky, she basically staked herself. And technically, you were the one that plugged that guy tonight, not me.”

“I just helped quicken the blow, you would still have done the deed. Don't be ashamed, Sookie, it was brave, and you did the right thing.”

Sookie seemed a little confused at her new position of vampire slayer; sort of proud and yet guiltily distraught. He decided to change the subject, and pulled some tight black jeans from a hanger, along with his leather shorts. He held them both up.

“Which ones? Unbelievably tight, thigh-hugging, black hipster jeans or obscenely tight, ass-hugging, exceedingly snug, black leather shorts?”

Sookie looked away, wide-eyed with embarrassment.

“Um...”

“You choose.”

“Jeans,” Sookie said, shifty eyed. Eric smiled and started to pull them on.

“Excellent choice.”

Sookie looked away again, but couldn't resist a cheeky peek, and just managed to sneak a glimpse of that backside she missed so much. Eric turned just in time to catch her looking, but he didn't say anything. He shed the fluffy robe, and zipped up, leaving the button undone for some extra fun.

“You don't mind me changing in front of you, do you?”

“No,” Sookie said quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched. “I mean, it's your office. You can do what you like in it.” Oh, if only he _could_ do what he wanted in it, he thought.

“Well, I hope you do not think me rude, anyhow. I know how well you value good manners. I think you've seen quite a lot of me anyway, haven't you?”

Eric looked at her, letting the question hang in the air.

“Well, I suppose I... when I picked you up at New Years, you just had your jeans on.”

“Hmm. Tell me, Sookie, why did you stop for me?”

“What?”

“When I was running near your house.” Eric flicked through some shirts, but wasn't really looking. “Why did you stop for me?”

“Oh.” Sookie obviously wasn't expecting the question, and it took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts. “Why wouldn’t I stop for you? I thought you might be in trouble. People don’t usually turn up running half naked down my road barefoot, and with you, well, I guessed there might be more to it, some kind of trouble.”

“You might’ve been in danger.”

“Well, nothing new there, huh?” Sookie smiled ruefully. “You might've been in danger, too.”

“It was foolish. It could have been anyone, and even after you realized who I was, someone might have been chasing me. You could have been hurt.”

“Well hey,” Sookie said, a little aggravated. “Next time I might not bother.”

“There will not be a next time,” Eric growled. There was no way he was letting witches get the better of him again.

“Good,” Sookie said, emphatically, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

There was another pause in conversation. Eric did not like where it was going. He pulled out two tops from the closet.

“Spangly boob tube or pink tank?”

Sookie tried not to smile, but she couldn't help it, and she giggled. Something inside Eric leapt in response to the lovely sound she made.

“Boob tube. Definitely boob tube.”

Eric considered putting it on for her amusement, but he wanted to speak with her and she wouldn't take him seriously wearing it. He shoved it back in the closet and pulled out a Fangtasia t-shirt. He took his sweet time, working his body into the tight confines of the cotton garment.

“You said you preferred me when I didn’t know who I was,” he said, running a hand through his damp, tangled locks, after smoothing down the shirt.

“Oh. I…”

He sat back down in his chair, and turned in her direction, putting his feet up on his desk. 

“Why?”

“Because, well, maybe I…”

“What did I do while I was cursed that made you prefer me that way? How was I different?”

Sookie took her time considering her response, and Eric patiently awaited her answer. 

“You didn't have your memories, and you didn't know that you were some big-shot powerful sheriff. You treated me like a real friend, not just like some minion there to do your bidding.”

Eric cocked an eyebrow. “Am I not a friend to you? Have I treated you badly?”

“Well, no.”

“So how was I different?”

Sookie sighed. “You were sweeter. You had more time for me, time to listen to me. That's all.” She stopped abruptly and looked like she was determined not to say anything more. She also looked a little emotional, and Eric didn't like where that was going. He decided to change tactics.

“What did we do, at your house? Did we have fun?”

“Er, sure.”

“What kind of fun?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Was it naked fun?”

“No.”

Sookie answered too quickly, and he noticed that her eyes flitted over his body, almost too quickly to notice, and she rubbed her knees together very slightly. Eric picked up on everything. Body language was one of his specialties, and he preferred to read Sookie's body above any other. 

“Why will you not tell me about my stay at your house? I must have done something with my time there. I presume you kept me entertained.” Sookie remained quiet. He took his feet off the desk and sat forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees. “Do you know how frustrating it is to lose memories?”

“I’m real sorry about that, Eric. Nothing much exciting happened. I just kept you hidden and we, you know, watched some TV, played some board games, did a couple of jigsaws…”

“Well, that does sound like _lots_ of fun. Were there any other types of fun we indulged in? Perhaps something a little more exciting, or physical?”

“We, er, did some scrapbooking.”

“Some what?”

“Like, cutting out pictures, and sticking them in a book, that kind of thing. Some découpage…”

“I don’t think so. Even without my memories I wouldn’t have done that, I am quite certain. Not unless they were naked pictures of you and me.” Eric grinned at the potential of such a hobby. He might actually look into it.

Sookie blushed and sat forward on the seat, before she stood. 

“Well, I guess I'd better go.”

“You still haven't told me the truth about that blood on your coat, either. Why will you not tell me what happened?”

“Please, Eric, I should be getting home, and I have to drive all the way back to Bon Temps.”

Eric rolled his eyes and ruffled his damp hair in frustration.

“I will drive you back, in your car. It is very late, and you are obviously tired.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. I don't wanna cause too much trouble.”

“It's no trouble.”

He looked up at her, all blood-spattered and crumpled, like a crash-test Barbie, and fought back the urge to laugh. _Trouble was her middle name._

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Next day, Eric was back at the bar. All the decorations had been taken down, and vampire remains disposed of. Pam popped up from behind the bar, and he sat down in one of the booths, spreading out his newspaper.

“I found some flaky vamp residue down here. I thought it was all hoovered up. Those cleaners just aren't good enough, we need to try that other company, _Corpse-U-Clean_.”

“They are very expensive.”

“You get what you pay for.” She ran a finger over the bar, looked at it and scowled. “I can't believe how much money we spent on that party for Dracula Night. And a dead vamp to clean up too. What a wash out.”

“Pam, shut the fuck up.”

“Still, it is clean enough,” Pam said, taking a seat opposite. “We should be fine to open again tonight. I know that the evening wasn't what you hoped for, but still, we had some fun. That was a nice tag team stake move you and Sookie pulled on that stupid imposter. It was very clever and perceptive of her, wouldn't you agree, tricking him into revealing himself?” She waited for some reaction from Eric but didn't get one. “Plus she looked good. Don't you think?”

“Hmm,” Eric finally offered in response.

“People admired my rather eye-catching silver lamé tuxedo. It got many positive comments, and some very jealous glances, especially from that inbred were-panther fellow, Norris. You looked hot too, in that tux, but of course you know that. Sookie called you James Blond,” Pam grinned. “She almost fainted when you kissed her. I heard the elastic of her panties give out. Pa-dooooiiing!”

Eric slowly raised his head to give her a glare, before lowering his eyes back to the newspaper. Pam smiled and continued.

“It was a shame the party had to finish so early. Did the party continue, after you took her back to Bon Temps?”

Eric sighed, and didn't look up. “I drove her home, saw her safely in, and flew back. Nothing more.”

“Well, never mind.” She sat back and pulled at her long ponytail, checking for split ends that were never there. “That stupid charlatan, Milos whatever his name was, thinking he could outwit us with his stick on beard and bad accent. What an absolute cheek.”

“Pam...”

“Oh, and when Bill said he'd use his database to trace who the imposter was, I could have vomited, I really could. God, him and his fucking database. It's not even that good, mine would have been so much better. I would have interviewed everyone, and got some really good professional shots...”

“Pam, seriously, just stop. You haven't stopped talking since I arrived, and I am not in the mood. Are we interviewing for a new bartender this evening?”

“Yes, I have all the details of the candidates. I have shortlisted three potentials.”

“Good. We will see them in my office when they arrive. Until then I would prefer to be left alone. I have lots of work to take care of, and would prefer some peace and quiet.”

Pam crossed her arms and pulled a face at him as he walked past her, down the corridor to his office.

Curiously, the first two candidates didn't turn up, and when Pam tried to phone them, they weren't picking up, either. She imagined that perhaps they had heard about the tendency for Fangtasia bartenders to meet their end, quite violently. 

The third did arrive, though, on time, which in itself gave him some Brownie points with Pam. She showed him into Eric's office, before taking a seat beside the sheriff.

“Charles Twining, at your service.”

The curly-haired vampire bowed deeply, and when Eric nodded towards the chair, he sat down.

“Well, Mr. Twining, thank you for coming. I am Eric Northman, sheriff of Area 5 and joint owner of this establishment. This is Pamela Ravenscroft, my child, second-in-command, and another joint owner of Fangtasia. I believe you have spoken with her.”

“Yes, it is a great pleasure to meet you, sir. I have heard of you, of course, and spoken with Ms. Ravenscroft when I inquired about the job. And please, call me Charles.”

“Have you done bar work before, Charles?” Pam asked.

“Not very much, no.”

“Any at all?”

“When I was human I did a short stint at an inn, that was approximately three hundred years ago. I can also dance a merry jig, and I have experience with scrubbing decks and keel hauling.”

Eric noticed Pam glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't look at her. She looked away and made some notes.

“A merry jig, you say?” Eric said.

“Very merry, yes indeed, sir.”

“Well, I think we'd like to sample said jig, wouldn't you say, Pam?”

“Oh, oh yes. I think so.”

“Right-o,” Charles said, getting up. “I haven't prepared anything specific, and I don't have any music, so you'll have to bear with me.”

Eric nodded.

“We don't mind if you freestyle,” said Pam.

Charles moved his chair to the side to give himself some space, and took a moment to prepare. He started once, flapping his arms, and then stopped himself, shaking his head. He prepared for a restart, forming the beat in his head, mouthing _one, two, three, four_. He started again, sort of folding his arms and holding them out in front of him, and lifted each foot in turn in a kind of skipping motion. Then he brought his knees up further, pointing his toes, and swayed from side to side.

Pam laughed throatily, then stopped abruptly, and pretended to clear her throat. She pinched at her lips with her fingers, trying to not let it out. Eric sat there observing the moves with a serious look on his face.

Charles turned around in a circle, then finished with a flourish, holding his arms out in front of him and bowing deeply. He stood straight again, looking at Eric and Pam for any sign of their approval, but there was none. Eric sat there stony-faced, and Pam was whimpering slightly, her lips tightly shut and quivering, and her eyes were slightly bloody. He finally repositioned the chair and sat back down.

“Any other talents?” Eric asked.

“Knots?”

Eric sighed.

“I have a scenario for you,” Pam said, daintily dabbing at her eye with her middle finger. “How about if there was trouble in the bar. Say, a female human is trying to hit on you, and her boyfriend comes in and starts causing a scene. How would you deal with that?”

“Hmm.” Charles cocked an eyebrow and tugged slightly at the hairs of his little beard. “Well, I would try to deflate the situation using my natural pirate charms. Perhaps make a joke with the young man, and make it clear that I had no designs on the lady.”

“What if he continues, and perhaps says something derogatory about your curly hair?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know, like... you have ladies hair, or that it looks like a wig, or you look like Cher, something like that.”

“Cher?”

“Yes, Cher.”

“Well, I would probably find some fault with his appearance, and put him in his place. Humans should know that vampires have the upper hand, especially in a vampire establishment, and respect should always be shown.”

“Indeed. What would your comeback be? Say he was a short man, with a receding hairline, and a slightly high-pitched voice.”

“Probably I would focus on the hair, as he did mine. I would point out that I still retained a full head of hair, unlike him, even though I likely had a few centuries on him. That might shut the blighter up momentarily.”

Pam made some more notes. “And then?”

“I would smile, perhaps show some fang, then point out bar rules and ask him to be more respectful. I wouldn't threaten violence unless absolutely necessary, and glamoring would be used sparingly in such a public place.”

“Hm-mm.” Pam did some more scribbling.

“Can you wield a blade, Twining?” Eric asked.

“Of course, sheriff. I flatter myself but I believe I am quite highly skilled. I still have my cutlass, from my human days. She's a fine piece of weaponry, so she be.”

“She? Do you have a name for her?”

“Indeed I do, sir. Tracey. I love her as well as I ever have any woman, or ship. It's not easy keeping blade in good condition in the salty, abrasive atmosphere you experience while sailing the high seas, but I treated her with the care and attention she deserved, these three hundred-so years. She has never failed me.”

Pam rolled her eyes.

“Really?” Eric gave a slight smile. “Very good. Well, I think we have heard, and seen, enough. Do you have any questions for us?”

“Ah, is there a uniform?”

“No. Just the usual over-the-top vamp stuff. The more piratey the better for you I would say, and the more entertainment for the patrons. Would the eyepatch impede your bartending capabilities, do you think?”

“Oh I doubt it. I've been one-eyed for centuries now, and it never made much difference.”

“Excellent. Anything else?”

“No, no I think that's it.”

“Good. Then we will let you know, Charles. Thank you for coming. Clancy.”

Clancy opened the door and saw Charles out of the establishment. Eric turned to Pam.

“What do you think?”

“That jig was terrible.”

“He was dancing without music, Pam. Give him some credit.”

“Yes, but still, if that's his number one party-piece and he's supposedly had three hundred years of merry jig dancing experience, I would expect something a little more spectacular. His skills are all ship-related or pirate-based. There is really not much use for jigs and keel hauling these days. He needs to take some evening courses, learn some new skills. Something slightly more transferable than the Hornpipe.”

“Yes, but we would not need him to dance. We are not recruiting for dancers, we are recruiting bartenders.”

“Well, he doesn't have much experience in that either. He would probably make a better dancer. We should've got him working the pole.”

“He has a certain charm about him, and a calmness. I think he would please the humans, keep them entertained. You have researched him?”

“Yes. He says he is from the Jackson nest, and I have found nothing to prove otherwise. You know how they come and go with Mississippi. Mr. Twining appears to come up clean, and everything checks out.”

“Well then, I say we take him on, give him a couple of weeks and see if he works out. We can always get rid of him if he turns out to be useless.”

“Very good, as you wish. I will make arrangements.”

“Pam.”

She turned as she opened the door.

“What?”

“Do me a merry jig.” She rolled her eyes, and he smiled. “Go on, just for me, your special Viking.”

“I am not wearing the right clothes. I cannot do a jig in these heels, you'll have to wait until I get changed back into my comfortable slacks and loafers.”

“I know you can do it. Come on, Pam. Do it for your maker.”

She sighed, and gave in. “Oh, alright.”

She hitched up her filmy black dress and did some skippy leg moves, which were more in the vein of Riverdance than a nautical jig, but Eric was none-the-less amused. She hopped to the side, shading her face with her hand like she was looking out to sea, then repeated the move in the opposite direction. 

“Look at me,” Pam sang. “Ha-har, me hearty! I'm a cheeky pirate, doing a merry jig, la-la-lalalala-la!”

There was a coughing noise behind her, and she stopped and turned. It was Charles Twining, popping his head around the door, which was still ajar.

“I beg your pardon, I er, forgot to ask about the hours.”

“Five days a week. Eight until three,” Pam snapped. “But it changes of course, depending on the day and the season. Overtime is often available.”

“Right. Thank you. I'm... I'll be going now.”

He closed the door behind him. Eric immediately burst into laughter. His child never failed to amuse him.

“Oh, that was superb. Off you go, Pam. As you were.” He shook his head and got back to work.

Pam put her hands on her hips and huffed. She hated getting caught out like that. She reached for the door again.

“And Pam.”

She rolled her eyes for the third time in less than ten minutes, before turning around.

“Yes.”

“Your jig was much better. Seriously.”

She closed the door behind her. She was still smiling when she got out into the bar.

 

  
  


  
  



	11. Eric Learns the Truth... About Tasseled Belts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Dead as a Doornail

“Come,” Eric said quietly, answering the knock at the door.

The office door opened, and there was Pam, looking all vampiric in one of her over-the-top black leather work outfits. This evening she'd gone for a leather corset, fish-tail skirt, and long, black lace gloves. Her heels were maybe 6 inches high, Eric estimated. Her hair was voluminous and wavy, and her make-up was smoky and seductive. It still amused him, to see her dressed up like this. It was just so _not_ Pam.

“Ah, Pam. Just the person I need to speak with.”

“What?” she asked petulantly, hands on hips.

“Can you please explain to me why we just had 20 boxes of Fangtasia workout DVD's delivered?”

Pam perked up and smiled. 

“Oh good, I ordered those weeks ago.” She delved into one of the opened cardboard boxes stacked up against Eric's office wall, and pulled out a sample. There was a picture of her on the front of the box, wearing black and red Lycra, posing with a dumbbell. She was smiling slightly, with her fangs out, and the tag-line read _'Get Vampire fit without having to change over'_. 

“Fitness videos?”

“Indira, Thalia and I filmed it last month. It's quite an intensive cardio workout, and if completed three or four times a week while following a healthy, low fat, calorie-controlled diet, it brings very quick results, especially to the hip and thigh area.”

Eric shook his head, not understanding a word. “What?”

“It will be very popular. Everyone has their own fitness video these days.”

“You have to stop, the merchandising and promotion is getting out of hand. Mugs, baseball caps, t-shirts, key rings, these I can just about cope with. But work-out DVD's, and these,” Eric swiveled in his chair and bent to a box behind him, pulling out some items. “Ear muffs. Thongs. Brassieres.” He turned to ping some lacy panties at Pam and they hit her in the face, before falling at her feet. “Corkscrews. Flip flops. Where will it end, Pam?”

“We are seeing very profitable results. You like flip flops.”

“Someone called earlier and told me they needed to come and take photos and sketch me because you had ordered Fangtasia bobble heads.”

“I know! Isn't it a great idea?! Your very own bobble head. They will be very collectible. The breathers will go crazy for them.”

“I have no desire to be rendered in bobble head form. This is just absurd. No more merchandise.”

“But...”

“No. I mean it. You are doing this purely for your own amusement. No one will buy a Fangtasia 12 piece barbeque utensil kit. Or a Fangtasia bicycle pump. Or Fangtasia stepladders.”

“Fine. Whatever,” Pam said, waving her hand. “They make Twilight stepladders, you know. Very popular, I hear. We could be raking it in, but we shall do it your way. We are still doing the calendar though, aren't we?”

“We will do the calendar, and then promise me you will stop.”

“Yes, yes,” Pam conceded. “Whatever you say. I can't wait for the calendar shoot. Maybe we should just make it your calendar, with photos of you every month, it would sell better. Plus, Clancy is body conscious, and who knows what that new pirate bartender Twining has to offer beneath his billowing poet shirt. I'm not sure I want to find out.”

“Clancy is only body conscious because you are always telling him his bottom looks big and his nipples are lopsided.”

“It's true.” She stuck her butt out and gestured with her fingers pressed to her chest, insinuating that one nipple was very much lower than the other.

“It's not that pronounced. You take it too far.”

“Oh, shut up, I do not. The point is, none of them are as good-looking as you are, and everyone will keep their calendar open on your month anyway. I have done market research on this. I sent you a report.”

“Did you include a pie chart?”

“No. Bar.”

Eric smiled.

“It will seem too narcissistic if I have one of my own.”

Pam curled her lip and looked taken aback at her maker's sudden modesty.

“So?”

“So, people might... they might think I was...”

“Hmm?”

“Narcissistic.”

“Since when did you care about that? You're the biggest fan of Eric Northman I've ever met. You positively squee with delight when you catch a glimpse of your own reflection. When we go clothes shopping it takes me ages to get you out of the changing room if there are multiple mirrors.”

“Bitch. I'm not that bad. I just like my clothes to fit correctly.”

“You have never been one to discourage the attention.”

Eric sighed. “I just think it would be better to have a different vamp hunk for each month.”

Pam narrowed her gaze and looked sideways at him.

“You want to do this so that when Sookie gets her copy, which you will no doubt be mailing to her, or perhaps delivering in person, she will see how superior you are to all the other hunky vamp specimens.”

“No.” 

“Oh! Sookie!” Pam suddenly said, throwing her hands up.

“What?”

“I forgot. That's why I came in here in the first place. You completely distracted me with the merchandise talk. We have a meeting scheduled to go over this in more detail anyway. I have samples of the new Fangtasia sleepwear range. The silk pajamas are simply divine and...”

“No pajamas, Pam. What about Sookie?”

Pam planted a grin on her face and put her hands on her hips. 

“She's here to see you.”

Eric cocked his head slightly. Pam was not the only one who had been distracted. He listened intently and allowed his acute senses to take over. Yes indeed, she was here.

“Maybe you could get her to try out the new Fangtasia underwear range.” Pam said, with a smirk. “What do you think she wants?”

Eric stood and checked himself in the mirror. He raked his fingers through his hair and pouted at himself a little.

“Let's find out, shall we?”

Pam followed him out of the office, and he slid into a nearby booth in the corner of the room. Not his usual central one. He wanted something a bit more intimate. From this position he would also enjoy the benefit of seeing her walk all the way across the room to where he was sitting.

He watched as Pam went over to the bar and tapped Sookie on the shoulder. She got down from the stool and made her way towards him. She was wearing tight jeans and a fluffy, white sweater that was short enough to expose some of her tanned midriff as she walked. Eric's fangs dropped a little, and he made sure to keep his mouth closed and think about Bill Compton, naked, until they finally retracted.

Sookie was looking particularly lovely this evening, he observed. He took in everything, all the glorious curves as well as the tiny details. Her slightly glossy lips, her curled hair, and her freshly polished nails, the color of which perfectly matched the color of the coat she was carrying, draped over her arm. The coat he'd bought for her only recently. Her hips swayed a little when she walked, and when she reached him, he briefly considered sending her back over to the bar for a napkin or something, just so he could watch her move in the opposite direction, and enjoy the rear view.

Instead, he stood, and bent to kiss her on the cheek. She smelled perfect, and her sweet aroma was intoxicating, making his mouth water. He wanted to touch her, everywhere, to take in every single inch of her naked skin with his eyes, followed by his fingers, and then his mouth. To kiss and then lick every soft curve of her body, every crease, every available inch of that tan skin. To sink his fangs into her luscious flesh, and swallow her delicious, thick, warm nectar. To bring her the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced, and exult in her soft moans, hear her scream his name as she squeezed him closer. The way she flooded and roused his senses was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

_Beautiful._

Eric realized his lips were lingering on her cheek, and he pulled back.

“What pretty nail polish,” he said, smiling. They sat down, and began to talk.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Eric parked in the staff parking lot, and entered through the back door. He wandered casually down the corridor and entered his office. He was just beginning to get changed, when Pam walked in.

“I bring wonderful and exciting news,” she said immediately.

“Oh, really? Well, hold the front page, Pam. For I have exciting news of my own.”

“Yes? Is it Sookie related? Did she like the tasseled belt?”

He unbuckled said belt, took it off, and looked at it in his hands. 

“What the fuck were you thinking? When I said you needed to find me something bold and masculine, yet seductively tactile, to wear to visit Sookie, this wasn't quite what I had in mind.”

“I thought there was something very Viking about it. I thought it was eye-catching, and she might like to touch it.”

“It's hideous,” Eric said, tossing it to her. “The only reason anyone would want to touch it would be because they couldn't believe their eyes and wanted to confirm it wasn't just some awful hallucination. Burn it.” Eric shook his head as he unbuttoned his pants. “And pleated slacks. Honestly, Pamela, sometimes...”

“Oh, well dress yourself then. So what happened?” Pam asked. “Your hair is an absolute mess.”

“Is there blood in my hair?”

“Yes, actually, there is. What were you up to? What was the favor Sookie wanted?”

Eric pulled his shirt off over his head and selected a green t-shirt from his closet.

“She wanted to be rid of Mickey, since he was treating her friend rather badly, it seems. To cut a long story short, Mickey turned up threatening to kill her friend, I got hit on the head with a brick, Sookie rescinded his invitation, I made a call to his maker, Salome, who will catch him and punish him, and he's basically fucked, blah blah, vampire politics, blah.” Eric pulled on some jeans and sat down in his office chair. “Much more importantly, before all that happened, Sookie repaid my favor by answering a few burning questions.”

Pam was suddenly more interested and perched on the edge of the desk.

“Really? Well, do tell.”

“I did have sex with Sookie while I was cursed, it seems, since she confirmed my suspicions. Many, many times, in fact, and in a variety of rooms and positions.” He settled back into his chair and folded his hands in front of him, planting a contented smile on his face. 

His smile fell a little when he remembered that, frustratingly, he still could not recall any of those moments. He had also been shocked to learn that he'd offered to give everything up to be with her. Part of Eric didn't believe this to be true. Perhaps Sookie was exaggerating, or there had been some sort of misunderstanding. Another part of him longed to know just what she'd done to incite a reaction like that, other than of course come to his aid when he needed her. Could she _really_ have been that good in bed? _She must have been spectacular!_

There was another thing. A part of him still wanted to be with Sookie. Not just in the way he had always wanted to be with her, naked and horny, but simply to be close to her, holding her, caring for her. Part of him envied that version of himself who had had little more to do with his time other than be alone with a beautiful woman, enjoying one another's company and learning about each others bodies. 

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He needed to stop thinking this way about Sookie, regain some control over his emotions, and get back to normality. He also needed to double his efforts in trying to get his memories back.

Perhaps some distance was required. He had other important business to attend to, and vampires such as himself did not become infatuated by humans. He had a reputation to uphold. People would start to talk, and he would be ridiculed for such unnatural and contemptuous behavior. Pam alone would mock him to the point where he would probably have to threaten to stake her. 

Sookie would be his again, under his terms, and it would be _him_ she was with. Not some watered down, pussy-whipped version of him.

“Is that all?” Pam asked, bringing him back from his wandering thoughts. “From your face it looks like there might be more.”

Eric shrugged. That was all he was willing to divulge, right now.

“That is all.”

“Well,” Pam said. “I could have predicted the sex. Let's face it, this is hardly surprising news. But you seem to be pleased with it, so congratulations on having had lots of sex with Sookie.”

“Thank you.” 

“Shall we throw a party?”

Eric gave her a stern glare.

“That will not be necessary.”

“Perhaps now you will stop breaking furniture and ripping soft furnishings. Your house looks like a shit tip and the cleaners keep complaining to me. Even I am tiring of the constant shopping for replacements.”

“Sometimes I like to destroy things,” Eric said, smiling. “You also had news? Wonderful and exciting news, I believe was the term you used.”

“Yes,” Pam smiled. “Very exciting.”

“Let me guess. You have bought a fabulous new twinset. New season's colors. I'm thinking a deep plum with gorgeous pearl buttons.”

“No. Guess again.”

“Oh God, is it something to do with shoes?” Eric rolled his eyes mockingly. “You got some new pumps. I don't know, bright red, patent peep toes. Fabulous spiked heels.” 

“Peep toes are so last year, and it is not the weather for them, anyway. Try again.”

Eric sighed.

“Compton has decided to return to Peru, and live there permanently. He misses his Peruvian chums and has decided to open a llama sanctuary, for homeless, sick and/or retired llamas. He will shortly be in the studio recording _Vampire Bill's Miserable Pan Pipe Moods_. He has no plans to return to Louisiana.”

“If only. Do you give in yet?”

“Fine. Go on.”

“I've set up my own website.”

“Wow. That's big news, Pam. That's right up there with that story you told me where Maxwell Lee slipped on a pineapple chunk and his shoe came off, or that time that you unknowingly spent the whole evening wearing slightly different earrings. Oh, that was big news. I didn't stop hearing about that for weeks.”

“Did anyone ever tell you what a sarcastic brat you can be sometimes?”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Whatever. I've e-mailed you the link.”

“This isn't one of those dirty webcam sites is it?”

“Certainly not! It's very tasteful, actually.”

“Is it a mainstreaming site like Bill's?”

Pam snorted.

“No fucking way.”

“That reminds me. I meant to speak with him this evening but I was distracted. I need you to call Bill and get him to search his database for information on Twining. I am still quite incensed at our new bartender's inability to oversee the safety of my lo- our telepath. I need to be sure he has no ulterior motives being here.”

“Oh, I don't want to talk to Bill Incompetenton,” Pam pouted. “You do it. He'll try to talk to me about computer things and bore me with tales of his mainstream holidays.”

Eric rummaged in his desk drawer, rose from his chair and bent down to pop a re-fill in his Glade Plug-in.

“Well just email him then.”

“He has the ability to bore via e-mail too, you know. I fell asleep at full dark once, just reading a message he sent to all the vampires in his address book urging them to consider the benefits of mainstreaming.”

“Just do it, Pam.”

“Fine. But if I meet my final death out of the sheer tedium brought on by reading a boring Bill e-mail, on your head be it.”

She walked out, slamming the door, and Eric chuckled, before settling back into his chair. He checked his e-mails, and clicked on the link Pam had sent. 

The site popped up in a new window. The title was ' _How to be the Ultimate Vampire – with Pamela Ravenscroft_ '. One side of Eric's mouth upturned into a smile, and he clicked on the video post, titled ' _Advice for Newbie Vampires_ '.

The film began with Pam standing outside the front of Fangtasia. She was fully vamped up, looking hot in a tight, black PVC catsuit, and high-heeled boots.

“ _Hey Bitches. I'm Pam, and I'm going to teach you newbies how to be real vampires. Forget everything you heard about mainstreaming, it's total bullshit and goes against everything being a vampire stands for. Vamps kick ass, we're scary as hell, we get what we want, and we have fun doing it. That's how it is. So be proud, put that nasty fake blood back in the fridge for when you have idiot mainstreaming guests, sit back, and get ready to learn how to be a_ real _vampire. I assure you, you will not be disappointed. Being a real vampire is_ fucking great _._ ”

Eric grinned and shook his head a little. The film cut to Pam in a bookstore, in the Philosophy section, flicking through some Nietzsche. 

“ _Now, hopefully, you will have been turned by a wonderful, experienced, knowledgeable and well-respected vampire, who will teach you all there is to know and provide you with a good foundation of knowledge for when you are ready to venture out into the world on your own. They will support you, encourage you, nurture you, and hone your skills in order to maximize your potential as a responsible and successful member of our undead race. But this is not always the case. Some makers are pathetic idiots, and if you find yourself sired by one of these useless excuses for a blood-sucker, you're going to need help.”_

The camera cut to her walking out of the bookstore carrying some hefty looking tomes. She stopped and cocked her hip, balancing the books in her arms.

“ _Yes, it is fun to be a vampire, and we will learn more about this later. But first, you need to learn. Philosophy, languages, mathematics, ancient history, these can all be enjoyed later, and you should take the time to fully educate yourself, since knowledge is power. Right now, though, you need to focus on learning the basics.”_

In the next shot, Pam was back outside Fangtasia.

“ _Take a look at this pile of bullshit.”_

The film cut to a commercial for TrueBlood, with some random vampire taking a drink from a bottle and smiling as he savored the taste. He held up the half empty bottle and nodded his head, as the caption came up: ' _Even Better Than the Real Thing'._

The film cut back to Pam, shaking her head.

“ _Now, you could choose to live like this, pretending to enjoy the foul, synthetic taste of such blood substitutes, however, you will be existing, rather than living. Where is the fun in eternal life if you are merely existing, trolling your way through years upon years of dull mainstreaming boredom? No, you have been given a gift, and you need to learn to live, in your lifeless form, rather than exist. You're a vampire, for fucks sake, so be prepared to act like one.”_

Next shot, Pam was inside Fangtasia, in the bar area. No one else was around, so they must've been closed.

“ _So, firstly, the most essential task to learn is how to feed correctly. This is your number one priority, since you must feed in order to survive.”_

A caption came up on screen: 'FEEDING'.

“ _Now, if you are a newly turned vampire, you must learn the correct feeding etiquette straight away. While it is possible to live off synthetic blood, even when first turned, fresh, human blood is what your body is truly craving, and you should not deny your natural impulses. Like breast milk is more nutritious for a new born babe, similarly, real human blood will fully sate your appetite, make you stronger, and will further your development more speedily.”_

Eric smiled and sat forward in his chair, resting his chin on his hand as he propped an elbow on his desk. _She's going to make such a wonderful maker one day,_ he thought.

“ _So, try to remember these simple rules. For simplicity, you can memorize the term FANG_.”

Again, the term popped up on the screen. Pam smiled slightly at the camera as she allowed the acronym to sink in for the viewers.

“ _First thing. F is for Feed_.”

The word popped up on screen.

“ _Find a suitable, willing fang banger, if possible, but if not, any healthy-looking breather will suffice. If you are feeding from the unwilling, which of course should only be done in the most dire of circumstances,”_ Pam added, for legal reasons _, “remember to do so in a private place, where you will not be disturbed during your meal, or cause any unnecessary and unpleasant scenes_.” 

Pam curled her finger and beckoned someone outside the camera shot. A pretty, young Latino female drifted towards her, and smiled seductively. 

“ _You will no doubt find the place you prefer to bite when feeding, after some practice. The wrist is a good place to start, but today I am going to bite Carmela here on the more traditional area of the neck. Remember, do not pierce the main artery. That gets very messy and can be fatal for the human.”_

Pam's fangs clicked down, and she turned to brush the girl's hair away from her neck. Then she bent down slightly, cradling Carmela's face in her hand, before slowly licking and then sinking her fangs into her neck. The girl closed her eyes and moaned a little. Pam finally pulled away, healing the puncture wounds, before licking her lips.

“ _Mmm, very nice, Carmela_ ,” Pam said, appreciatively, before turning back to camera. “ _Next thing to remember. A is for Away_.”

The word popped up on screen.

“ _Usually it is only necessary to take a few draws, perhaps half a pint or so, but as a youngling you will need to feed more often, and the urge to carry on feeding to the point of draining your meal may be difficult to fight. Listen to the beating pulse of the human. If it is slowing to 1 beat every 4 seconds, pull away. You do not want to kill your human meal, this is needless, can get very messy and is, of course, against the law. If you are having difficulties pulling away, try to think of something disgusting. Personally, I prefer to think of Bill Compton naked. This works every time. I encourage you to see this man for yourself and use this technique when having difficulties controlling your urge to drain.”_

A picture of Bill flashed on the screen, naked, covering his modesty with a small, tatty green towel, seemingly caught unawares in a shower cubicle.

“ _Simply vile. And finally, Glamor._ ”

The word came up on the screen.

“ _If you are not feeding from the willing, or even if you are but they get freaked out and start screaming or some shit, you need to be able to glamor them_. _To do this, simply look into their eyes and speak to them, slowly, softly, and clearly._ ”

Pam turned and fixed her eyes on Carmela's.

“ _Say something like 'we were just talking about shoes. You noticed my Jimmy Choo's and we discussed the new seasons statement leopard print ankle boot, isn't that right?'”_ Carmela nodded. _“The human should respond in the affirmative, and you will know they are successfully glamored by observing the vacant look in their eyes_. _Thank you Carmela, that will be all._ ”

The girl drifted out of shot, and Pam turned back to the camera.

“ _So, follow the simple code of FANG when feeding, and you will soon be enjoying healthy, tasty, hassle-free, nutritious meals on a regular basis.”_

“Pam,” Eric called. He stopped the video, and within moments she popped her head around the door.

“Hmm?”

“I'm just enjoying your video here.”

“Oh yes?” Pam said excitedly, stepping into the office. “And? What do you think?”

“Very nice. The layout of your site is a bit busy, but your informational video was very good. You offered some very useful advice.”

“Thank you. I had a very able teacher.”

“Indeed you did. Unfortunately, you got your feeding acronym wrong.”

Pam looked at him blankly. “I'm sorry?” 

“FANG. You covered feed, away, and glamor. I think you'll find that's FAG, Pamela.”

“Oh shit!” Pam threw her head back. “I did, didn't I? I forgot nurse, the bit about healing the wounds!”

“Yes, I believe you did,” he smirked. “You'd better sort that out.”

“I don't have time to do it now. I'm already late for a manicure appointment, I wasn't expecting to work this evening, but what with Twining being shipped to Merlotte's...”

“Can't it wait?”

“My manicure? Are you joking? Look at the horrific state of my nails!”

She stepped forward and waved them in front of his face. They looked absolutely perfect, as always.

“Pam, they're fine.”

“They are hideous. I won't make it now. Will you fly me there? That way I could get there before closing. Thursday is the only day they open late.”

“I am not flying you to your manicure appointment, Pam. I am not some sort of aerial taxi service. You can drive there.”

“But I will not make it in time. You do not have to stay, I can call a cab when I'm done.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Please?”

Eric closed his eyes and groaned, and then shut down his computer.

“Alright. Just this once. I hope that when you have a child you treat them as well as I do mine. Sometimes I think that you are positively spoiled.”

Pam scoffed, as Eric got up.

“I am not having children. They are too much trouble.”

“Indeed they are,” Eric mumbled.

“Can I have a pony?”

“No. You will not care for it.”

“Can I ride you like a pony during flight?”

“Don't push it Pam, I could drop you quite easily.”

Pam smiled as she followed him out. The manicure could wait, actually, since the salon was open late every night except Tuesdays and Sundays. She just felt like a fly with her maker.


	12. Eric's Got Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before Definitely Dead

Eric sat at his desk, pen in hand, leaning over a large sketch pad. Someone had suggested automatic drawing in order to help 'draw' his memories out of him, but it didn't seem to be working. So far, he'd drawn a picture of Sookie punching a fox in the face and another of Pam windsurfing.

This clearly wasn't working.

“Eric.”

“What?!” Eric growled. He screwed up the piece of paper in his hand and tossed it on the floor, before looking up from his desk. Pam stepped inside the room.

“If you are going to be all angry, at least do it out in the bar where it can be appreciated by the vermin. Take it out on them, not me.”

“What is it Pam?” Eric said, through gritted teeth.

“The photographer has brought in the proofs for the calendar.” She held up a large brown envelope. “Do you want to see?”

Eric simply motioned with his eyes and thrust out his hand, and Pam stepped forward to hand him the envelope. Eric opened it and began sifting through the photographs. Looking at them somehow cheered him up a bit, lightening his murderous mood.

“My God, Pam, you're topless in this one. I can see nipple.”

“Which one?” Pam said, quickly scooting around to his side of the desk. 

“The right one, I think.”

“Not which nipple, which picture? I made sure I remained covered at all times.”

Eric moved around in his wheeled office chair, swiveling in his seat every time Pam tried to grab the picture. She was using vamp speed, but he countered her with slightly quicker moves each time.

“Eric, let me see.”

He got up from his chair, and held all the photographs in the air, flicking through them in his hands, looking up. Pam reached, jumping, but of course failed to make it high enough.

“This one is positively pornographic, you dirty slut. I would be shocked if I hadn't seen it all before.”

Pam climbed him like a tree, and when she finally got a knee on his shoulder, he flicked her off so she landed on the leather sofa.

“Svin,” Pam muttered.

“Hora,” Eric countered. He smirked and went and sat by her, and handed over the pictures. “You look very seductive. You pout too much though, in photographs.”

“Oh, I do look good,” she said, smiling. “I like this one best.”

She pointed at a photograph of her stretched out across Eric's throne, which they'd taken along to the photo studio. She was wearing a skimpy leather outfit, practically just a few straps covering her bare essentials, and some seriously kinky boots, and she was flexing a whip. Some muscular male, naked except for some tiny, black, PVC underwear and a spiked collar, was standing next to her, and she was pressing her heel into his abs.

“Hmm. It is very artistic.”

“I am glad you decided we should do a female version. I think this will sell even better.”

“Whatever, Pam. You know mine will sell more.”

“We will see.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Eric said, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“It will be like taking candy from a baby. Name your forfeit.”

“Are you serious?” Eric said, picking out a photograph of himself. “You think that this will not win?”

It was a shot of him lounging on a huge white fur rug, completely naked. The position of his legs meant that the shot wasn't _too_ revealing, but the curve of his spectacular ass was very much on display. His hair was all tousled, and he had a sexy smirk on his face.

“That pose is incredibly cheesy. You might as well have had your love broadsword on show, since you are leaving very little to the imagination anyway.”

“Did you just call it my 'love broadsword'? You haven't said that in years.”

Pam smirked. “You should have covered your cheeks.”

“Why? My cheeks are much admired, and the uncovering of them will result in increased product turnover. Let me tell you, Pam, this calendar will outsell any other this year. I know it is only February, but that order we put in for a thousand, they will be sold out by March. We will definitely need to place a larger order. You will need to give yours away for free, and you will still be doing so next year.”

“Well, if you are so confident, let's hear the bet.”

“We have until December 31st this year to sell as many of our respective calendars as possible, and the one who loses...” Eric tapped his chin.

“Yes?”

“I'm thinking. The one who loses has to lick Bill Compton's hairy man boobs.”

Pam immediately displayed her disgust at the thought, sticking her tongue out and making a vomiting sound.

“That is revolting. We should do something more reasonable, like, perhaps the loser has to get flattened by a steamroller, or lose a couple of fingers.”

“Well, if you are not confident that you are going to win...”

“Of course I am. Whatever. I hope you enjoy the taste of Compton's moobs,” she paused to retch again, “because you are the only one who will be sampling their distinctive flavor.”

“You know I always win,” Eric said, grinning.

“Yes, but have you seen these photos?” She took some more from him and flicked through them. “Look, Thalia looks incredible in that gold swimsuit. Look at Clancy.” She handed him one of the other pictures. Clancy was sitting on a motorbike, wearing some sort of leather chaps, with a fangy grin on his face.

“It's... sexy.”

“Oh puh-lease,” Pam said, rolling her eyes. “No one wants to see that, even the pathetic fang bangers. Look at this one of our new girl, Felicia.” She handed him a picture, of the tall and beautiful vamp, stretched out elegantly on a chaise longue, wearing some incredibly hot French lingerie.

“That's...” Eric brought the photo closer to his face. “Well, that's... rather boring, actually,” he lied, tossing it back nonchalantly.

“Yeah, right. You have no chance, and you know it.”

“We'll see, Pamela. You forget that _I_ am Mr. January. You mark the female shots you want to use and send them back, I will do the same with the males.”

“If we get them back by tomorrow he says we could have actual proof samples of the calendar in two weeks.”

“Excellent.”

“Now,” Pam said, getting up. “Have you fed tonight? You look very pale.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eric groaned.

“I don't think you have. In fact, I haven't seen you so much as lick your lips at a fang banger in weeks.”

“Just because you have not seen me does not mean I have not been doing it.”

“You are always grumpy when you do not feed. I have seen the empty TrueBlood bottles, too.”

Eric looked at her, mouth agape.

“Pam, have you been going through my _trash_?”

“No, I have just noticed, that is all.” She sat down by him again, and put a hand on his knee. “Eric, my master, I am concerned. Has Bill been trying to convert you? You would tell me if you were mainstreaming, wouldn't you?”

Eric flicked her hand off his leg.

“Mainstreaming? Have you gone insane?”

“Well then, what is wrong? Please do not say it is Sookie,” Pam said, shaking her head. “It cannot be because you are still pining for the area telepath.”

“I am not pining for anyone,” Eric said through gritted teeth. “I have not had the appetite, that is all. Now if you do not mind, I have work to do.”

Eric stood and went over to sit behind his desk, and shuffled some papers.

“She is technically yours. Why do you not just go and claim her, if you are that bothered?”

Eric just looked at her menacingly and growled, and Pam held her hand up and headed for the door. She knew that look, and she knew when she was pushing her maker too far.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Eric sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes. The truth of it was, he simply didn't have the appetite. He was repulsed by everything he saw, and the thought of sinking his fangs and drinking from anyone but Sookie was somehow so abhorrent, he had been unable to drink anything but synthetic blood since he returned home. 

One time, he'd actually got as far as biting, before he had to stop and withdraw, without taking any blood. He'd actually felt guilty. Like he was cheating! It was entirely absurd, and frankly, quite embarrassing.

Eric took a deep breath full of air, filling his lungs unnecessarily, and exhaled loudly. Then he went over to his mini-fridge, pulled out a bottle, and stuck it in the microwave.

While he was waiting, he stared at the phone. The microwave pinged, and he took the bottle out, shook it, and looked at the phone again. He took a sip from the bottle, pulled a face in reaction to the foul taste, and picked up the receiver. He sat in his chair and dialed Sookie's number.

“Hello.”

Eric paused, open-mouthed, and considered putting the phone down.

“Hel- _lo_?” she repeated. 

“Ah, Sookie. It took you a long time to answer. I was going into downtime.”

“Eric, is that you? What are you talking about? I answered after two rings.”

“It seemed to take you much longer than that.”

“Well, _okay_. I was just leaving for work. Is everything alright?”

Her voice calmed him somehow, and he wished she would carry on talking.

“No. Everything is not alright,” he answered, shortly.

“Oh. Well, what's up?”

“I've... I have some very important work for you to do. It is quite urgent.”

Eric heard her sigh.

“I thought that the summit was next month. I told you, I'll have to check with Sam.”

“No, not that. Something else. I need you to come to Fangtasia, and... do-some-very-important-mind-reading-work,” he blurted.

“Oh, okay. But I can't tonight, I'm working. Maybe tomorrow? I'm not working at all tomorrow.”

“Fine. Be here at 8:00.”

“Yes _Sir._ ”

“I would appreciate it,” Eric said, trying to make up for his abruptness.

“Sure,” Sookie said, tiredly. “I've gotta go. Bye.”

Eric didn't know what else to say, so he put the phone down. He stared at it again. 

He had been brooding for days, pondering over his conversations with Sookie the last few times he'd seen her, attempting to understand what might have happened between them, and trying to figure out what to do next. The truth was, he just didn't know. It felt like he was slowly going insane.

Speaking with her had the effect of making him both calmer and at the same time more wound up. He cared for Sookie and yet he was infuriated by her. He wanted her yet he wanted to be rid of her. He was hoping she would come to him yet he was hoping she would stay away. He did not know what he wanted, anymore. Years of experience and self-knowledge had meant that he had always stayed one step ahead of everything and everyone, and was always certain of his next course of action, never once doubting himself. Until now. 

Eric closed his eyes and banged his head against the desk. Now there was a small issue of finding some mind reading for her to do.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

The following night, Sookie turned up right on time. He heard the distinctive noise of her old car, her quiet tapping on the back door, and the mumbling and shuffling as one of the human minions went to answer it. There was soon a knock on his office door.

“Enter.”

The human stepped in, along with Sookie. 

“Sookie Stackhouse for you, master.”

Sookie rolled her eyes as she always did when any of his staff or underlings called him master. She was looking all formal in navy pants and a cream blouse with ruffles. There was just enough cleavage showing, however, and when the young minion, Justin, who happened to be quite tall, started staring, Eric had to restrain himself from vaulting over the desk and draining him where he stood.

_Look but don't touch, fucker. In fact, don't bother looking, either._

“That will be all, Justin,” Eric said, firmly and with an undercurrent of threat.

Justin backed off quickly and closed the door.

“Sookie.” He rose from his seat and gestured for her to sit down opposite. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

She placed her purse and red coat on the sofa, and sat down.

“It's all right, I guess.”

“How are you?”

“Huh?”

“Are you well?” Eric said.

“I'm fine,” Sookie answered, a little startled. “Thanks for asking.”

“You were hurt, the last time I saw you. That swine Twining...”

“Oh, yeah. I'm all right, my rib's pretty much healed up.”

“Good.”

What Eric really wanted to do was lay her out on the couch and give her a thorough examination. Run his hands over her body, kiss everything better. Heal her.

“So... I was summoned and had to come all the way over here because?”

Eric detected something in Sookie's voice, maybe resentment? Maybe apprehension? Excitement? He could also read her emotions through their blood link, of course, but still couldn't quite manage to pinpoint it. Perhaps because it was a mixture of so many. Perhaps because his own emotions were all over the place. When he didn't answer her, she continued.

“You want me to do some work or something? Some mind reading?”

“Yes,” Eric sighed. “Mind reading.” He sat back in his seat and put his feet up on the desk. He stretched out his unbelievably long legs, crossing his feet at the ankle, and gripped the back of the chair behind his head. He was wearing a tight black tank top today, and was of course fully aware of the display of magnificence. Eric knew how to work his body to it's best advantage. Sookie's pulse quickened and Eric smirked in response.

“How about a little warm up first? Would you like to try to read my mind Sookie?”

“You know I can't do that,” she said, looking away.

Eric widened his eyes. “Try,” he challenged.

Sookie huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Well, I have no idea, but I'm going to guess, _oh, maybe_ , blood, sex, fang bangers, blood, fighting, boobs, vampire politics, sex, money, killing, naked girls, blood, some more fighting.”

“Sookie!” Eric feigned astonishment. “You can read my mind!” 

“Oh!” She stiffened and held her hands up. “No, no, I was just kidding!”

Eric threw his head back in amusement at his own joke.

“Ah, Sookie.” He shook his head. “Wonderful. Is that truly what you believe I think about all the time? Seriously, why don't you try? Give it a whirl, for your favorite Viking.”

“You're the _only_ Viking I know.”

“Well then, I am your favorite, aren't I? Of course I'm the only one you know. We're all dead, even me, one of the final few unique specimens. I'm quite touchy about it, actually, but as it's you there will be no repercussions. Don't spoil it. Go on,” Eric took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Read me.”

Sookie looked away and pouted. “You know it's not possible, Eric. Not that I'd want to know what you're thinking, anyway. No doubt it's something dirty. Probably something about boobs.”

Eric frowned. “Sookie, do people think about your boobs a lot?”

She shook her head, and sighed. “You wouldn't believe.”

 _Don't bet on it_. “Well, you may be surprised to learn that I do think of other things when I look at you.”

“Oh really?” Sookie said, unconvinced.

“Yes.” 

_Your toned, tan legs, your sexy curves, your incredibly round, pert behind, your sweet, delicious blood, your perfect, soft lips. Your sweet disposition and the way your beautiful, soft hair smells like honey and sunshine._ _Honey and sunshine?_ _What the fuck?_ Eric looked away from her eyes.

“What? Eric, you were thinking about my boobs weren't you?” She shook her head. “It's fine. I'm used to it. Humans do it, and Weres, so I don't see why vamps should be all that much different.”

“Well, I am not like some dirty, unsavory human or shifter. I do think of other things. _Surprisingly enough_ ,” he added, quietly.

“Hmm.” Sookie raised a decidedly unconvinced eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like...” Eric looked up, and rolled his wrist in a thinking motion. “Like your lovely hair.”

Sookie laughed out loud. “My lovely hair? Eric, I can't believe you of all people just said you think about _my lovely hair_. That's an absolute riot.”

“It is lovely,” Eric smiled.

“Hm-mm.”

“And also, I think about your incredible, big blue eyes.”

Sookie's eyes momentarily betrayed how flattered she was, but then they hardened again. 

“Oh, my blonde hair and my blue eyes? Is it just a coincidence that they're the two things we happen to have in common? You're such a narcissist, Eric.”

Eric smiled, but inside he was scowling. _Always with the defense._

“Why do you say that? Why would I not admire your fine features and compliment you on things other than your breasts?”

Sookie huffed and crossed her arms again. “Because....”

“Yes?”

“Because, you're Eric.”

“Hmm. I was Eric when I was at your house, too, but you had no qualms about me admiring you then, so I hear. I'm sure I paid you many boob, hair, and eye compliments, and you still thought I was _lovely, sweet Eric_.” He said that in a whiny voice, for added effect, and couldn't contain the anger seeping below the surface of his words. 

Sookie's mouth opened to respond, but she couldn't seem to form the words. He knew from her face and her emotions that she was hurt, and perhaps guilty. Finally she shook her head.

“You're the one that's always talking nasty to me.”

“I have _fun_ with you, Sookie, because I believe you have a fun nature, and because I find you attractive and enjoy flirting with you. Do you think this is nasty? Because if you do, I will try to behave more appropriately in future. Perhaps I should stop admiring you entirely.”

“Look, whatever, okay? I didn't come here to have some kind of fight with you. God, I don't even know how it got this far. Can we do the mind reading now please?”

“Fine.” 

Sookie took a deep breath and exhaled. “So, what am I supposed to be picking up on?”

“Some... _items_ , have been taken from my house. It has been going on for a few months, and the only people who ever enter my house are my cleaning lady, Ramona, my daytime man, Bobby, and obviously, Pam.”

“Have you glamored them?”

“Of course, but it's not working.”

“I seem to remember that happening once before. In fact, I'm having a little deja vu here. No one's gonna try killing me, are they?”

“No,” Eric said, with a faint smile. “You are quite safe, I can assure you.”

“Okay. So what's been taken? Is it money, something valuable? I need to know what to look out for.”

Eric cleared his throat, and mumbled his response. “Clothing items.”

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes. _Why didn't he just make some shit up instead?_

“Clothes.”

Sookie looked at him confused.

“Why would you care if some of your clothes went missing? I mean, I know you probably spend a lot of money on them, but, I mean is it really that important? I thought maybe someone was stealing precious historic relics from you, ancient family heirlooms or something.”

“Theft is theft, Sookie, and when it is from my own home this is cause for even more concern.”

Sookie sighed. “Alrighty. You want to do it in here?”

Eric considered flashing her a smirk and making some sort of suggestive remark, but after their earlier conversation, right now it didn't seem appropriate.

“Yes.” He picked up his phone and pushed a button. “Indira. Bring in Ramona, will you.”

Eric stood.

“Why don't you sit here, Sookie. I will stand and make sure that my 64 year old human housekeeper doesn't go for your jugular.”

“Ha ha.” Sookie went and sat in his big leather chair.

“She is quite a brute. You wait until you see her. You will be glad that I am here to protect you.”

Indira opened the door and in shuffled Ramona. She was tiny, maybe 4 feet 10, and fairly frail looking. She looked older than 64. Eric must work her hard, Sookie thought.

“Good evening Ramona,” Eric said, quite loudly. Maybe she was a little deaf. “Thank you for coming.”

“Well, that's all right, Mr. Northman.” Ramona smiled, and looked at Sookie. “Hello, Dear.”

“This is Sookie Stackhouse. She's just helping me get to the bottom of a few things, and I wondered if you'd mind if she asked you a couple of questions?”

“Of course I don't mind speaking with this lovely young lady. Is she your lady-friend, Mr. Northman?”

“Ah... she is a friend, yes, Ramona.”

Ramona smiled and winked at Sookie, and gave her a look that might have been interpreted as _well done_ , _isn't he a catch_.

“Well, don't you make a lovely couple. I'm always telling Mr. Northman here that he needs a pretty lady looking after him. Ms. Ravenscroft does, of course, but he needs a real girlfriend taking care of him.”

Eric sighed. He really should have planned this better.

“Yes, thank you for your concerns, but honestly, Miss Stackhouse doesn't need to hear about all this. We really do need to move on now.”

Eric looked at Sookie, and noted from her smile that the way that Ramona was making him squirm was obviously highly amusing to her. 

“Now,” Eric continued, still speaking loudly but with a soft tone. “As you know, some things have gone missing from my house and I am concerned about security. You have been with me for many years and I am sorry to have to do this, but I must check if you are telling me the truth. Sookie here has the ability to confirm whether or not you are doing this.”

Sookie smiled and held out her hand, and Ramona took it, without question.

“Ramona, the things that have gone missing from Eric's house. Do you know anything about that?”

“No, I don't,” she responded, shaking her head. “I never so much as took a pen from Mr. Northman's house and I never would. He's been very good to me, over the years. I don't know who might've been taking things from him. I think it's just awful someone would do that.”

Sookie looked at Ramona, and concentrated.

“She's telling the truth,” Sookie said, finally.

Eric smiled.

“Thank you, Ramona. I'll have someone drive you back home, unless you want to stay and party the night away in the bar. Show these youngsters some of your wonderful dance moves.” 

Ramona smiled and laughed like only a flattered sixty-something year old lady can. Eric smirked and picked up the phone again, and Indira came to collect her.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Stackhouse,” she said, waving at the door. “Hope to see you again soon.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ramona.”

They repeated the process with Eric's daytime lackey, Bobby Burnham, who was slightly more reluctant, but nonetheless innocent. When he left, Eric sat and lounged on the sofa.

“Well, this is indeed a mystery,” he said. “You got nothing at all from either of them?”

“Nope. Ramona truly wouldn't ever steal from you or betray you at all, and Bobby's the same. Bobby doesn't like me as much as Ramona does, though.”

“Hmm,” Eric responded, thinking.

“There was just one tiny thing.”

“What?”

“Well, it's probably nothing, not even related.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I caught a flash in Bobby's mind. He thinks Pam's been going through your stuff. I caught an image of him seeing her rooting though your drawers.”

Eric's eyes widened, and he stood and clenched his fists.

“Pam!”

Eric didn't usually raise his voice when he summoned his child, but this warranted a shout.

She soon popped her head around the door.

“What? What's with the shouting? You about blew my ears off. Hi, Sookie.”

“Hey Pam.”

“Sit down,” Eric commanded.

Pam looked from Eric to Sookie and back again, and sat down.

“Now then, Pamela. Sookie has been here tonight to read Ramona and Bobby, in regards to some items _taken from my home_.”

“Oh. Really?” Pam responded, shifty-eyed.

“Yes. Really. It appears that neither of them were guilty of this heinous crime, and that leaves only one further suspect.”

“Ooh, this is just like Poirot or Columbo or something. It must have been your machine, then. It eats them. You need a new one.”

“It is not my washing machine or my tumble dryer that is eating my underwear, Pam. But as your punishment I might make you eat it, or I might shove you in the dryer.”

“Your _underwear_?” Sookie said suddenly.

Pam smirked. “He did not tell you? His underwear has been going AWOL for weeks.” She looked back at Eric. “Why do you presume it is me? What use would I have for your underpants?”

Eric ignored Sookie's stifled giggling.

“Bobby saw you rifling through my drawers.”

“I have to put the new items I purchase in there.”

“Pam, if you do not tell me the truth right now, there will be considerable consequences, do you understand?”

She rolled her eyes.

“God, will you just calm down? It was a joke! I was saving up enough pairs to make one, massive, giant pair of underpants and then I was going to hang it up on the wall outside Fangtasia, like a huge pant-banner. It would have been hilarious. But you had to go and spoil it by getting all uptight and bringing the telepath in.”

Eric stared at her for some time, seething. In the end, he just shook his head, and slowly walked out of his office, without a word.

Sookie and Pam looked at each other.

“Well, I thought it was a good joke, didn't you?” Pam said.

“I guess. It doesn't look like Eric did though. Will he punish you?”

She shrugged. “Probably. He will see the funny side in a few years time. I'm sorry you were dragged into this, Sookie. It looks like you can probably go now. Eric has finally solved the mystery of the missing underpants, and I must face the consequences.”

They both got up, and even though Sookie looked around, she couldn't see Eric anywhere, and Pam saw her out.

Sookie got into her car, and sighed heavily before starting up the engine. Just as she was about to pull out, there was a tap on her window, and she let out a little scream of surprise. It was Eric. She wound down the window.

“Hey Eric, you scared me.”

“Sorry. I just wanted to say thank you for coming. And to tell you to drive safely. Are you buckled in sufficiently?” He reached in and tugged at the seat belt.

“Um, yeah. Okay. I'm glad you got to the bottom of that real important problem you were having with missing underwear.” Sookie sounded tired, and maybe a little bit agitated, but she couldn't hide the smile.

“It was actually quite important,” Eric said. “Security is paramount for a vampire. The support of good underwear is also a priority. I should have known Pam was the culprit. Of course, I had my suspicions, but couldn't work out her motive. Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay a while longer? I would enjoy the pleasure of your company this evening.”

“Well, that's nice of you and all, but I'm a little tired, and it's quite a drive back. I really should get home.”

“You can stay over,” Eric said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sookie sighed and shut the engine off.

“You know something? You're really exhausting me.”

“I'm what?” Eric said, his smile dropping.

“I don't know what you want from me, Eric. One minute your nice as pie and the next you're treating me like one of your minions. You're a real mystery, you know that?”

In response to this, Eric wanted to push her car over, on one hand, but pull her out and take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, on the other. Yes indeed, he was fully aware of his fluctuating moods and character. 

“Perhaps I am another mystery that needs to be solved,” Eric said, with a wry smile.

“Maybe if you told me what you were thinking, rather than expecting me to somehow read it in your head, it might not be so mysterious,” Sookie said, gripping onto the steering wheel.

“I do think _fondly_ of you.” The way he said the word 'fondly' made it sound like some ancient, foreign, hardly-used word. “Can you _feel_ how I am telling you the truth? Even if you do not believe the words coming from my mouth, or trust what I tell you, can you not feel it, Sookie?”

Sookie looked at him, her eyes softening at first, before her face suddenly became more animated. Eric could tell she was contemplating the possibilities of him knowing her feelings, too, through their blood link. Things had indeed gotten very complicated between them, and again, Eric longed for a time when he and Sookie were alone, apparently simply happy and content in one another's company. Talking and laughing like 'old buddies', and having beautiful and no doubt exceedingly pleasurable sex in various rooms of her house. Taking care of one another. Kissing tenderly. Belonging to each other.

“Won't you just tell me what you're thinking?” Sookie whispered.

Eric looked into Sookie's eyes for some time before responding. 

“I am thinking that I was lucky to have been taken in by you, when I was in need of your help. I am thinking that I miss being with you, even though I do not remember exactly why. I am thinking that until my memories of that time are restored, I will never be able to understand what truly happened.”

Sookie opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't manage anything more than “Oh.”

“I am also thinking that it is cold, and late, and you have a long drive back to Bon Temps,” Eric continued. “I am thinking that Pam is the sneakiest, most mischievous and annoying child ever created, and am already contemplating suitable punishments. What were you thinking?”

He raised an eyebrow, daring her.

“Well,” she looked at her hands, and made sure she was focusing anywhere but on Eric. “I was thinking how nice it was to see you and Pam, and I was thinking how lovely your housekeeper was. I was wondering how you were going to punish Pam for her little joke,” she smiled, and gave him a sideways glance. “Oh, and earlier I was thinking about how huge your shoulders and biceps looked in that tank top.”

She smiled and made a cute giggling sound, and Eric's eyes widened in shock at her confession. A little honesty could go a long way, it seemed, but Eric was no fool. He knew it would take a lot more work to get Sookie to reveal her true feelings, just as it would him.

He leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. 

“Do they, indeed? Well, I shall remember that, and purchase more, for your viewing pleasure. Drive safely, Sookie. Don't stop for any half-naked vampires.”

He stepped back, and she started up the engine.

“Oh, don't worry, I won't.”


	13. Were Tigers Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Definitely Dead

In retaliation for her little underpant jape, Eric concocted a quite complicated but ultimately worthwhile plot. It took a little organization, but within the space of a few days he was fully prepared to exact his revenge. 

Operation Ultimate Fucking Embarrassment of Pam (or OUFEP, as Eric had been referring to it - he'd been unable to construct any better acronyms) was ready for commencement. 

The evening began much like any other. Eric wandered into Fangtasia, looking sharp in an expensive, perfectly tailored, gray suit. He checked his emails, did a little work, and then went to sit out in the front for a while. He rolled his eyes when some of the fang bangers let out girly screams when they saw him, and perched himself on one of the stools at the bar.

“Warm me a True Blood, will you Felicia? O Positive.”

She nodded, and while he was waiting, Eric turned and surveyed the bar. It was busy, but not exactly heaving. Quite a few vamps on duty. _Perfect._

He clocked Pam, standing near the door. She was scowling at the breathers as they made their way through. Every so often she'd stop one and point at their shoes, and make some comment about how dirty they were or how unsuitable they were for a bar such as this, or make a point of asking them to tuck their shirts in. She liked to call them names like 'pathetic bloodbag' or 'worthless human scum', that sort of thing, generally aiming to make them feel inferior and uncomfortable. Pam liked to play the insulting and overbearing disciplinarian. She was the ultimate dominatrix, and many of the regulars that frequented Fangtasia absolutely loved her for it.

Eric noticed that she had lipstick on her teeth, even from quite a distance away.

“Pam,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the music and the rabble, using his maker 'pull' to get her to look at him anyway. She looked over at him and mouthed a ' _what?_ '

“Lipstick. Teeth.” He gestured, pointing at his own mouth.

Pam understood, and rubbed at her teeth with her finger, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and then sucked them. She flashed him a toothy smile, and he mouthed ' _It's gone'_. She gave him an appreciative nod, and immediately went back to business, shaking her head at a fang banger who had wandered in wearing some PVC pants with the backside cut out.

“Here you go, Eric.” Felicia placed the bottle on the bar, and Eric turned back around to face her.

“Thank you.” He took a sip, grimaced, and tried to imagine it was real blood. “How are you enjoying Shreveport?”

“Very well.”

“And the work?”

She shrugged slightly. “It is fine. Not as dangerous as I'd heard it might be.”

Eric cocked an eyebrow. “Well, we oversee the bar quite strictly. We get very little trouble here at Fangtasia.”

“Oh, I do not mean the patrons. I have heard that a number of bar staff have met their final death, recently. Pam says there is a telepath who picks them off, when she is displeased with them.”

Eric shook his head, and tried to hide his smile.

“I can assure you, that is not the case. Miss Stackhouse does not purposefully seek to destroy Fangtasia bar staff.”

“But it is true, though?” Felicia asked seriously. “Pam suggested I meet with her, to beg for her mercy, and see what I was up against.”

 _Up against Sookie?_ An image flashed in his head, of himself and Sookie in the shower, naked and vertical and wet. He was grinding himself up against her, into some bathroom tiles. She was slippery with soap, and her mouth was open as she moaned in her pleasure. _Hmm, interesting_ , Eric thought. _That's a new one._ He filed it away with the rest of his Sookie fantasies, to be pondered on later in more minute detail.

“I am sure you would not find her to be a particularly intimidating adversary,” Eric said, sarcastically. “On first glance, at least.”

Since she'd arrived, he'd noted that Felicia was hard-working, quiet, in general, and observant. Maybe too observant. She had picked up the reins at the bar very quickly, and Eric had been impressed with her professionalism. He had also appreciated her straight-talking. She was not one of these underlings who was forever wanting to please him or impress him, she just did her job. 

But he really knew very little about her, and did not like the thought of relatively unknown vampires sniffing around Sookie.

“Was there any other reason you wanted to introduce yourself to her, other than Pam's random bullshitting?”

Felicia considered her response, taking a moment to wipe down the bar. 

“I have heard she is quite beautiful, that there is something otherworldly and special about her. I have heard she is a telepath, of course, but I have never really thought there was anything special about telepaths. I admit I am curious to see her for myself.” She bent to put her towel away, and then leaned on the bar, looking him in the eye. “She is said to be a favorite of yours, that you have an unusual interest in her. I thought she must be very spectacular, to have had such an effect.”

Eric ground his teeth together, and his nostrils flared. Pam had warned him of these rumors which had been circulating. The gossip was getting out of hand, and was becoming dangerous. For everyone.

He calmed himself, using the method he sometimes employed, thinking of a basketful of kittens, tumbling over one another, pawing each other in the face. A little ginger one tripped up and actually fell out of the basket, and he had to retrieve it and carefully pop it back in with the others.

“Well, I can assure you that there is nothing extraordinary about her at all,” he said, his tone level and serious. “She is indeed just another pretty human, who happens to have a talent which is valuable to me and my area. You would do well to stay away from Bon Temps. It is a very dull back-water and of absolutely no consequence. Bill Compton lives there, he is the resident mainstreamer, and he thinks he is doing worthwhile work, reaching out to the local redneck human population by holding Civil War lectures in church halls. That is what passes for entertainment, in that town.”

“I have heard of Bill Compton, he is the small one with the man bangs, who runs like a girl.”

“Yes, that's correct.”

“I will be sure to avoid him,” Felicia said, nodding.

“Good.”

Eric gave her a curt nod before he rose from the stool, and headed across the floor to his booth. On the way there, he scanned the crowd and took the hands of three very beautiful and eager fang bangers, who immediately set about wrapping themselves around him, vying for his attention.

He slid into the seat, and the ladies followed. He sat back and sipped on his True Blood, while surveying his bar. The girls giggled and stroked and fawned over him, and Eric allowed them to.

“Ah,” Pam said, drifting over after a while. “I see that you've got your appetite back. Once you are done being pampered, there's someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

Of course he knew who.  _Bill was so predictable._

“Bill Compton. He looks, I don't know... scared. I was going to show him right over, but I didn't know whether you'd be _retiring_ soon.”

“Well, I will give him 5 minutes of my precious time.”

Pam smiled and wandered off again, before returning again with Bill in tow. As usual he was looking miserable and pedestrian in nondescript polo-shirt and slacks.

“Compton. What brings you out of your shabby farmhouse and into my wonderful club?”

“I need to speak with you, Eric. I've been trying to call, but your phone is switched off and whoever is answering your phone here at Fangtasia keeps hanging up as soon as they hear my voice.”

“Really? Well, why don't you sit down, and tell me what the problem is? Thank you, Pam.”

Pam turned and sauntered off, and Bill sat down opposite Eric, the pretty girls taking the opportunity to squeeze themselves closer.

“I see you are back to your old self, sheriff,” Bill snarled.

“Was I ever anyone else?” Eric responded, with a smile. “Now, what did you come all this way to see me about? I really am quite busy.” He looked at the girl sitting to his right and brushed the back of his finger across her cheek and down her throat. She closed her eyes and moaned. “I am positively famished.”

Bill looked around, scanning the bar, before leaning forward over the table.

“I have a problem, which I would like to discuss with you, in private.”

“I really don't have time for your problems, Bill,” Eric said firmly. “What is this all about?”

“It is in regards to your child,” Bill whispered.

_Oh really? No shit._

“What about her?”

“She has...” Bill paused to sit straighter again, searching for Pam in the crowds like a vamp meerkat, before leaning back in to Eric. “She appears to have developed a strange interest in me. I am quite concerned.”

Eric removed his arms from behind the fang bangers, and sat forward.

“An interest, you say?”

Bill scowled. “Yes. An interest.”

“What sort of interest?”

“She has been sending me rather inappropriate emails. She appears to have been developing her skills with Photoshop, and has sent me some very disturbing images.” He shook his head, as if trying to remove said images from his brain. “ _Very disturbing_ ,” he repeated, shakily. “I received a message from her saying that she intended to visit me tonight, to _do things_ to me.”

“Hmm, I see. Pam has been speaking about you recently, now that you mention it.”

“She has?”

“Yes. She does things like this sometimes, becomes obsessed, fixated. She will not give in until she has you, Bill. You might as well just yield to her. Afterward, she will soon get bored and move on, I am sure.”

“But why now? She has never shown any romantic interest in me before.”

Eric shrugged. “She is fickle like that. She will not just come out and say it to your face, because she will be embarrassed. If you speak with her, she will deny it. This is not unusual behavior for my child. One time she had a thing for Thalia, and stalked her for months. In the end Thalia just gave in and had sex with her, and after that Pam got bored and never bothered her again. It is the thrill of the chase that Pam enjoys.”

Bill shook his head.

“I just... I don't know if I can.”

“She is intimidating, I know. You prefer your partners more submissive,” Eric said, with a hint of disgust.

“I... Pam is...”

 _Don't you fucking dare insult my child, Compton_. Eric considered simply reaching out and swiftly crushing his dull, ugly head. But then that would ruin all the hard work he had put into this prank.

“She is scary,” Bill finished, choosing his words wisely.

“Tell me,” Eric leaned closer. “Has she begun sending... _the gifts?_ ”

Bill looked up, a shocked look on his face.

“Yes,” he whispered. “This evening, I received... it was...”

“Dead things? With the heads of plastic babies?”

Bill brought his fist to his mouth and bit down, before nodding.

“You should just yield now,” Eric advised. “Get it over with, before she starts making effigies of you and burning them.”

“Look, sheriff, I came here tonight to ask for your assistance. Can't you ask her to stop, as her maker?”

Eric looked at the younger vampire sympathetically, and shook his head. 

“She is very headstrong.”

“Eric, _please_.”

 _Oh, this is just priceless_ , Eric thought. He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

“Ladies, will you excuse me?” The girls reluctantly disentangled themselves and walked off, and Eric stood, pretending to look annoyed at having to interrupt his plans. “I will speak with her,” he said.

Bill nodded his appreciation, and Eric went to find Pam. She was back by the door again, and he bent to her ear, making sure that Bill could see from where he was sitting.

“Pam,” he whispered. “It appears that Bill has a little problem which he has requested we help with.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. He has a fang banger stalking him, one of them is here tonight and she has begun to get psychotic.”

“Bill has stalkers?” Pam asked, surprised.

“Apparently so. There is no accounting for taste.”

“I do not understand humans. So what does he want us to do about it?”

“She is just at that other table over there, next to my booth. Don't look over. Go up to him, and pretend like you want him, that he is yours. She will be scared of you, and back off.”

“Oh no,” Pam said, rolling her eyes. “I can't.”

“It will only take a minute. You know how weak he is, he cannot do this himself. It is pathetic, and we do not want the breathers thinking our kind is so easily intimidated. Go on.”

She closed her eyes, and Eric took the opportunity to nod over at Bill.

“All right. But you owe me. This really will be quite excruciating.”

He smiled at her slightly, and they wandered back over to Bill. Pam sat down, and Eric remained standing.

“So, Bill, my darling,” Pam rolled her eyes at her own words. “You are looking very sexy tonight, in those slacks,” she said, disinterestedly. “Shall we go have sex somewhere, you... you... hot vampire, you.” She pulled a face, and rubbed at her temple in her discomfort.

“Pam, I...” Bill began, his voice cracking. Eric looked at him, catching his eye, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Yes,” he said, giving in. “Yes, let's just get this over with, Pam.”

“Get it over with?” Pam said. “But we are lovers, you and I. Nobody else better have their eye on you,” she said, jerking her head to the next table. “That would make me very angry. You do want me, don't you?”

“I... yes, of course I do.”

“Tell him how much you care,” Eric urged his child.

Pam gave her maker the evil eye, just before he turned and nodded to the DJ booth.

Then the music suddenly stopped.

“I love you Bill Compton,” Pam said loudly. “You are mine and I'm going to have sex with you.”

A number of shocked gasps and a couple of screams were all that was heard. Then Eric began to chuckle silently. He reached into his pocket and switched his tape recorder off.

“Perfect.” He nodded again and the music restarted.

Pam let out a roar of anger as she realized what Eric had done.

“For the underpants,” he said, smiling. He walked off in the direction of his office.

“What the?” Bill looked at her confused.

“Oh, you idiot,” Pam scoffed. “He was just fucking around with you. It was a joke. What exactly did he do?”

Bill growled as the pieces fell into place.

“He sent me emails from your email address, suggesting you _wanted_ me, with _pictures_ of us. And then he sent me disturbing gifts from you. I thought you were stalking me.”

“Oh please. You truly are brainless, Compton. Now he has me on tape saying I love you,” she groaned, shaking her head. “I will never hear the last of it. And so many people in the bar heard. This is truly embarrassing. I don't like him at all,” she said loudly to the crowds, pointing at Bill. “Ignore what I said before. It was a joke.”

“I am going home,” Bill said, pouting. “I really do tire of your childish games.”

“Fuck you, Bill.”

He gave her one last glare, before leaving.

Pam sat for a while, stoney-faced and furious. Finally, a smirk crept across her face. She had to hand it to her maker. _That was a good one._

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

A couple of nights later, all was back to normal at Fangtasia. Eric and Pam had forgiven each other for their tomfoolery, and Eric promised not to bring out the tape recording without due warning or good reason. She changed her email password, and he made copies of the tape.

Pam knocked on Eric's office door, and went in.

“I just spoke with Sookie, like you told me to,” Pam said. “I don't know why you cannot do your own summoning. What is this about, anyhow? Do you need her to come in for some random mind-reading again just so you can stare at her and be all conflicted and moody like an annoying Emo kid?”

He carried on typing, determined not to look at his child or rise to her taunting. 

“I have had word about the summit; we finally have details of when and where it will be held. Sookie will be attending as my employee and I need to make her aware of arrangements.”

“Send her an email.”

“She does not have email.”

“Well then you can call her to inform her of arrangements,” Pam said, narrowing her eyes. “Why does she have to come here? Why Friday? Why not tonight, or tomorrow? Or Saturday?”

Eric didn't have much in the way of comeback on that one. He just wanted to see her, and for him, Friday was going to be ideal. He would have time to spend talking with her. Also, they had a band on at Fangtasia, and there was a strong possibility Sookie would do some of her marvelous dancing. He would wear a black tank-top and buy her a gift. It would be perfect.

“You know I prefer to do these things face to face. It is easier. She will have many questions. I will have more time on Friday.”

“No, but you...”

“Pam,” Eric interrupted, tired of the questioning. “Did you or did you not speak with her?”

“Yes, I did. You have not even told me about details of the summit yet. We won't have to share a hotel room this time will we? It was very annoying last time when I brought that marketing consultant back for sex and you were sitting there watching the Discovery Channel in just your socks. How was I supposed to explain that?”

Eric shrugged, and carried on typing.

“I enjoy watching historical documentaries and I sometimes like the coziness of socks. The carpets in that hotel were dirty, and I did not want to put my shoes on.”

“What I mean is, how am I supposed to explain a huge naked Viking in my room just sitting there, grumbling about how their reconstructions aren't historically accurate? _'Oh, don't mind him. Just pretend like that massive, naked vampire isn't there, and get your pants off'_.” She shook her head. “It is not right. I am old enough to have my own room.”

Eric sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Stop being a whiny bitch. What did Sookie say?”

“She said thank you for the calendar proofs.”

That brought a smile to Eric's face immediately. He pictured her eyes widening and the blush reaching the surface of her cheeks when she saw the picture of him as Mr. January, naked save for a little white fur held in front of his most prominent feature. 

“Will she be here Friday night?”

“No.”

“Hmm?”

“She is being recalcitrant. She says she can't make it, because she has other plans.”

“That damn Shifter can give her the night off, surely,” Eric said, shaking his head. “He works his humans far harder than I do, and there are absolutely no benefits for employees at Merlotte's. He is practically a criminal.”

“Oh, she's not working,” Pam said, looking away with a mischievous glint in her eye. Eric finally stopped typing, and looked at his child.

“Then what is she doing? Did you make it clear that I had summoned her? Why does she refuse me?”

“She has a prior arrangement. A date.”

Pam allowed the words to sink in, and it took a while.

“She has a what?” 

“You know, a date. I believe you had one in 1949.”

Eric ripped a chunk out of his desk. He looked at the piece of splintered wood briefly in his hand, before tossing it on the floor.

“Sookie does not date.”

“Well, it seems she does now.”

“Why would she want to do that?” Eric said, his voice a deep, low growl. 

Pam shrugged. “It's what people do. It's not like you're beating down her door with flowers and chocolates and gravel, these days. Are you even aware how you glare at her, sometimes? It's very off-putting, I'm sure.”

“I don't do that. I am perfectly normal. Who is she dating?”

Pam shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe you should ask her.”

“She can see who she wants,” Eric said. “I do not care.” 

“Hmm.” She smirked, and crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her elbow. “I can't think it's another vamp, can you? Unless it is someone in the Area who does not know your...” Pam tried to choose her words carefully. “You know. The fact that she is employed by you.”

“Human?”

“She does not date humans, does she? It could not be Fae.”

“Demon?”

“Oh, come on, really? Demon? Be serious.”

“Well then it has to be...” Eric's eyes widened. “Fucking Lassie Merlotte.”

“Or Hairy Herveaux?”

“She could not be seeing a Were. That is worse than her dating Compton.”

“Marginally.”

“Well then,” Eric said. “If Sookie is too busy dating Shifters to come and see us, I shall have to go to her. Remind her where her priorities should lie.” 

Pam smiled. “Tonight?”

“No. I think I will visit her... _oh, I don't know_ , how about Friday?”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

“Sookie is dating a Were-tiger?” Pam said, following Eric down the corridor to his office.

“You heard correctly. She's dating that big bald half-wit Were-tiger, Quinn, the one who sets up the props and dresses up like a genie at our Amun ceremonies. When I visited her last night he was there, picking her up for their date.” He opened the door to his office, took off his jacket, and sat down so heavily in his chair that it sounded like it might break. Pam stood in front of him, shaking her head.

“This is positively shocking. And to think I had such high hopes for her. I was beginning to quite like her, with her shotgun-toting and how she looked after you and dumped Bill. And how she so easily wrapped you around her little...”

“Er, Pam, I don't think you...”

“...Well, I just can't believe it. Big old bald genie Quinn. With our Sookie?”

Eric shrugged, and gave her an ' _I know_ ' face. Inside, however, he was feeling much less nonchalant about the matter. He really wanted to rip off Quinn's head and use it for bowling. _Perhaps a Fangtasia bowling team could be fun._ He tried to imagine which orifices he might use for the finger holes.

“Touching her,” Pam continued. “Kissing her. Heavy petting, perhaps. Maybe more.”

“Oh, I don't think it will go that far,” Eric said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “This is their first date.”

“This is not the 18th Century, Eric.”

“No, I am very aware of what century it is, Pam. And, by the way, I got to third base on my very first date, and that was back in the 11th Century. But this is Sookie we are talking about. She would not do anything like that. She is respectable, and she does not make rash decisions like having sex with a Were-tiger she barely knows.”

“What do you do on a date in the 11th Century?” Pam asked. “Farming? Irrigate some land?”

“You get to the good part, much more quickly.”

Pam perched on the edge of the desk, looking at Eric, trying to gauge what his true feelings were about Sookie and her new beau. She could sense his anger, and see his mind whirring, considering his next move. She glanced at the telephone.

“Perhaps we could contact that company he works for.” She smirked, and raised an eyebrow. “Get a quote on an event.”

Eric looked up at her. “Why would we want to...” He clicked. “Oh. Yes, why not.” He began tapping on his keyboard, and soon found the phone number. Pam lifted the receiver of the telephone on Eric's desk, and tapped in the numbers he read out.

“Hello there, yes,” Pam said, politely. “Is this Special Events, the supernatural offshoot section of the company called Extreme(ly Elegant) Events?”

She made a point of pronouncing it Extreme Lyelegant Events, and made bracket gestures with her finger, for her own and Eric's amusement.

“Oh, I'm sorry. It's just a bit confusing. Why isn't the company just called Extreme Events, or Extremely Elegant Events, without the brackets? Hmm. Really. Well... yes. Look, whatever, I'm not all that interested, to be honest. Am I speaking to the Special Event Manager, for the Louisiana area? Oh good. I'm looking to get a quote on an extreeeemely elegant event.” Pam winked, and Eric smirked at her.

“Excellent. A packmaster contest. Were-goats. Hmm. The er, Goats Cheese pack, from, um, Arcadia. Well, you probably wouldn't have, we're quite small, and we keep ourselves to ourselves. Goats are notoriously unsociable. Oh, just some fence jumping, and um, pole weaving.”

“Mountain climbing,” Eric whispered.

“And some mountain climbing. Preferably outdoors, yes. Yes. Then some proper hardcore goat fighting. Well, we can be quite violent, actually. There's no need to laugh, goats can be very ruthless.”

Eric made a snorting noise, and Pam motioned with her hand to shush him.

“So how much might this cost? No, no catering. Well, just give me a ball-park figure. That's a ridiculous price. Do you have something against Were goats? Well there's no need to be rude, Mr? Are you a shifter of some sort yourself Mr. Quinn? Oh really? And I suppose you think you're better than me, just because you shift into a tiger, and I a goat? You think I'm inferior, isn't that right? Hmm? Sorry, what was that? Did you just insult my Were goat heritage?”

“Ask him if he grooms himself with his tongue and likes to lick his little hairy balls,” Eric whispered.

Pam smiled, and nodded at him.

“At least I don't lick my hairy balls clean, Mr. Quinn,” she said brusquely. “Mmm. Hm-mm, I bet you still do though, even though you can take a shower. I'll bet you can't help yourself. I bet you shift all the time for that sole purpose.” She grinned at Eric. “Yeah? Yeah? Oh, you're the big man-tiger, huh? Well I could take you any time. Well that's fine with me, since I don't think I want to hire you anyway, Mr. Quinn. I think you're overpriced and very rude. You've insulted me and if I were there, I'd hoof you right in the face. Were-tigers suck.”

Pam hung up before he had the chance to answer back. They both immediately burst out laughing, throwing their heads back and screwing their eyes up in their amusement. Pam even held her sides, and had to brush away a pink tear.

“Did you... _oh!_ ” Pam couldn't get all her words out, and she started laughing again. Eric cracked up again too, and shook his head at her.

“Goats cheese?”

“ _Aah._ He's such an idiot. He was getting so angry, especially when I mentioned his little hairy balls.”

“That was fucking brilliant, Pam. I think we have found a new pastime.”

“Thank God. Bill was becoming so passe.”

“Oh, I think we can still make time to ridicule and/or harass Bill. For now, though, I think it is crucial that we focus our efforts on the ridiculous bald Were-tiger.”

“Very good.” Pam stood and exited the room, still chuckling to herself. “I'll get onto Ikea. I need to order you a new _Alve_ desk, since you damaged this one the other night.”

“Antique stain, Pam. Not the black one,” Eric called after her.

“Yes,” she called back.

He looked at his desk. “Pam,” he waited for a couple of seconds before repeating himself, slightly louder. “Pam!”

She poked her head around the door.

“What?”

“Get me a new _Husvik_ lamp as well, will you?” He grabbed his desk lamp and tried to angle it, but it just flopped back to it's original position. “This one has seen better days.”

“Anything else?”

“No. That is all.”

She rolled her eyes and closed the door.

Eric sat back in his chair. _Fucking Quinn._ The thought of him touching Sookie, laughing with her, kissing her, made him boil with rage. Who the fuck did he think he was, waltzing into his area, taking what was rightfully his? Being possessive was usual for vampires, but even for Eric this was an extreme reaction. He was incensed.

Not only did Quinn have the gall to ask Sookie, _his lover_ , out, but he also comes to poach her services for the Queen at the upcoming summit. Oh, he was furious at Quinn, for sure, but the person he was most enraged at right now was Sookie. She knew very well how he would react to this. And she had rejected and undermined him in front of the tiger. Was she doing it on purpose? To anger him? To humiliate him? 

He could not believe how outraged he was by her actions. He knew he should not care so much about the dating habits of the area telepath, but he could not deny his chagrin. He also felt an unusual ache inside which he could not put his finger on, and put it down to the fact that he was hungry, and overworked.

He closed his eyes and tried calming himself, thinking about the fluffy kittens. It didn't work. They just kept tumbling out of the basket and he couldn't control them. A tiger-striped one fell out and peed on his rug, and he got even angrier than he was before.

_Fucking cats._

 


	14. Melon Pranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the end of Definitely Dead

The bar was already open when Pam wandered in through the back entrance. Eric had called the previous night to say he was on his way back, before filling her in on some of the details of his trip. After their brief conversation had ended, she'd removed all the feminine touches which had accumulated in his office in the few days since he'd been gone.

She felt the presence of her maker in the building, and headed for his office. She thought she heard him humming a tune. _Was that Avril Lavigne?_ She stopped dead still and listened.

“ _Mm-hmm-mm acting like somebody else hmm-mmm-strated.”_

He stopped, possibly sensing her presence. She shook her head, knocked once on the door and carried on into the room.

“You're back.”

“I am,” Eric responded, still scribbling away.

“Were you humming Avril Lavigne just then?” she asked, seriously.

“Anvil who?” He lifted his eyes briefly from the page he was working on, and shook his head. “I have no idea what or who you are talking about. You're late.”

“Actually, it was my night off, but I thought I'd better catch up with you here.”

Pam glanced down at the desk and noticed she'd forgotten to remove a fruity lip balm when she'd cleared up. It was a little yellow tin, and there was a smiling cartoon pineapple on the front of it. She had no need for such a thing, really, since her lips never got dry. Eric thought using unnecessary human paraphernalia like that was ridiculous, but Pam sometimes liked to be obtuse. She reached forward to palm it. Eric placed his hand on top of hers over the balm, and looked up. His lips had a sort of glossy sheen to them.

“Leave it.”

Pam withdrew her hand and sat down. “Well, welcome home,” she said, smiling. “How was New Orleans?” 

Eric put his pen down and sat back in his chair, and smacked his lips, enjoying the soft fruitiness. 

“Enlightening," Eric said, smiling. "Plus I got to fuck shit up with a sword.” 

“Yes, you mentioned that last night. How lovely.”

“I was outstanding.”

“I'll bet you were. You are quite a sight to behold, when you're fucking shit up with a sword. And weren't you witness to some telepath on Were action?"

"I was."

"I can't believe I missed all the fun! Sookie has fae blood!” Her fangs ran out at the mere thought of it. Her eyes were positively twinkling from the joy of the gossip. “And all this about Bill! I still can't believe he managed to pull the wool over everyone's eyes, coming here on the queen's orders to seduce Sookie.”

Eric growled low in his chest, and his whole body tensed. 

"It was not entirely unexpected. I knew he was hiding something. I just thought perhaps he was a closet transvestite or that the queen had him doing some kind of embarrassing menial work, like taking care of her extensive collection of stuffed lapdogs, or creating a database record of all her earrings. I didn't think she'd have an idiot such as Bill do something like that."

“I could have done it much better,” Pam said.

“What?”

“Seduce Sookie.”

Eric was momentarily lost for words. He stared at her, angrily, and she just smiled back.

“She is not that way inclined, Pam.”

“Or you, obviously. You would have done a stellar job.”

He nodded his head in agreement. But the thought of misleading Sookie, gaining her trust and then delivering her into the hands of the queen, left a nasty taste in Eric's mouth. He wondered briefly, if Sophie-Anne had commanded him, what he would've done. How would he have reacted and dealt with the situation? Would he have accepted his queen's orders and done his duty, as Bill had? What other option would there have been, after all?

“ _ Or _ the queen could have just approached her in a more open and reasonable way,” Eric said, quietly.

“Yeah, like the queen of Louisiana is going to be reasonable when it comes to procuring humans. But why get Bill doing her dirty work?”

Eric's response was immediate, since he'd already gone over this in his mind very recently. 

“Because Sookie was completely naïve when it came to vampires. Sophie-Anne would have known this, and used it to her advantage. She would not have trusted me with the task. I am more...” Eric shrugged a shoulder. “Intimidating. Bill is obviously very good at pretending to be something he is not. He also takes orders easily, and I don't. The queen knew I would use Sookie's talents for our benefit in the area, and that I would be reluctant to give up such a precious... _useful_ commodity. Our queen fears my power and intelligence, of course.”

“Hmm.” Pam chewed that over for a while, before continuing. “So do you think Bill really does mainstream, or is that just part of the act?”

“I truly think he is incredibly dull, and doesn't fully accept his condition as a vampire, but it's mostly an act. Mainstreaming is good PR for the queen, that's all she cares about, and Bill seems happy to go along with it. In reality I'm betting he's hardly any more mainstream than you are, Pam.”

“Shut up!”

“Seriously. I'm guessing he still has terrible taste in clothes, though, and his hairdo really has been trapped in the 1860's.”

Pam nodded in agreement.

“Like, hello? Hasn't he ever heard of styling gel?”

“Obviously not. What has happened here?” Eric asked, changing the conversation topic. “Let's hear it.”

“Just the usual,” Pam sighed. “A couple of visitors from Area Three, and a minor dispute about some blood-dealing. We had a party of boisterous frat boys in which I had to take care of, as well as a small scuffle between a couple of vamps over a pet, and, oh!” Pam smiled excitedly. “We had a real protestor outside, night before last. She had a home made sign and everything.”

“Really,” Eric said, disinterestedly.

“Yes. Some frumpy, middle-aged woman. Her sign said ' _Vampires Go Home_ ' on one side, and ' _Vamps are Satan's Evil Whores_ ' on the other.”

“God. And they wonder why we've been preying on their useless carcasses for so long. Go home where? Transylvania? Fellowship idiots.”

“She spelled vampires wrong, as well. She spelled it VAMPERS.”

Eric shook his head.

“How do they think they are going to make a difference and oppress our kind when they make such basic errors? Really, it's embarrassing.”

“I know, that's what I said to her, right before I...” her voice trailed off. “Did you see the notice board? Maxwell Lee's misplaced one of his favorite cufflinks.”

Eric looked at his child with some concern.

“What did you do to her? This protester woman.”

Pam shrugged and smiled innocently.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Is she still alive? You didn't drain her, did you, just because she is ignorant and makes basic spelling errors?”

“No.” Pam looked away, and twirled a lock of her perfectly straight, pale blonde hair around her finger.

“ _Paaaam_.”

“I did a small amount of glamoring, that's all.”

Eric stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I had a quiet word. I didn't scare her, I did her a favor. I might have persuaded her to ditch the self-righteous campaigning and shown her the error of her ways. She feels much more warm towards our type now. She was in last night, all over Clancy like a rash. I encouraged her to take some English classes, as well.”

“Was that all?”

Pam pursed her lips.

“I drew a little mustache on her face. In permanent ink.”

Eric sighed. “Oh, that's very mature, Pamela.”

“It was an improvement. It matches the beard she already had.”

Eric leaned an elbow on the desk and rubbed his forehead.

“You know there is no glamoring allowed on premises.”

“I did it on the street, where she was protesting. Don't worry, I was very subtle.”

“We can't glamor everyone. It's immoral.”

“Immoral? What's up with you? Are you the glamor police?”

“It's also dangerous. You know how sparingly our influence should be used, since it's one of the things that humans are still totally ignorant of. Do you think her associates won't be confused or concerned about her sudden change of heart? They'll just accept that she's decided to become a fang banger? And how will she explain the mustache?”

Pam waved a hand. “Well, anyway, I'm sure she'd thank me, if she realized what I'd done. She'll have much more fun in here than out there with her tatty sign, looking all grumpy and getting angry about something she actually knows nothing of. Her life will be much improved. I gave her some complimentary fashion tips, and recommended a very good salon, as well. Her hair was really quite dry. Almost crumbly. She needed some intensive conditioning treatments.”

Eric sat back in his chair again and relaxed.

“Don't do that anymore, Pam. Did anything else happen?”

“Not really, no. Clancy has become obsessed with line dancing, and he won a little trophy night before last. I cleaned your office, and we had another batch of calendars come in.”

“Ah, good,” Eric smiled. “I was needing a stock replenishment. The sales of the male calendar are going through the roof.”

“Hmm,” Pam smiled smugly. “So are mine.”

“Really? You are not glamoring people into purchasing your calendar as well, are you?”

“Oh please, I don't need to do that.”

“Because if I found out that you were, you would be immediately disqualified and our little bet would be void, and you would have to complete a very, _very_ serious forfeit. Something much worse than sampling the savory, meaty flavor of Bill's moobs.”

Pam pulled a disgusted face. “Don't mention the moobs, you know how it makes me feel. My calendar is selling very well, thank you.”

“Good, good. I am pleased.”

They exchanged a competitive stare. Eric usually won their bets, but Pam was sure she had this one in the bag.

“So, I suppose Sookie hates Bill now,” Pam said, changing the subject. “Moobs and all. Whyever she fell for that tormented hero crap I'll never know. She's only human, I suppose. Well, mostly human, eh?”

“I suppose she is fairly angry at him, yes, now that she knows the truth of what he is." He leaned back in his chair, thinking. He remembered the tears. The pain of the betrayal manifesting itself in her eyes. "Perhaps she will learn to be less trusting.”

“Is she still dating Quinn? He might turn out the same. He came with a message from the queen too, didn't he?”

Eric ground his teeth together, and his nostrils flared at the mention of the tiger. 

“I don't know if she is still seeing him. But he is obviously quite useless.” Completely unable to protect Sookie, it appeared. Eric was thankful that he and Sookie had established their bond. Weak as it was, right now, he was still able to locate her. He'd been able to track her easily when they'd been kidnapped. While this made him relax a little, it all so infuriated him that she was dating some useless twerp who could not keep her safe himself, and also it made him angry because he cared too much. He reminded himself that he needed to be focusing on his own welfare, not Sookie's.

 _Well, she is the area telepath_ , a little voice in his head said. _You are supposed to protect her, sheriff. She is useful to the area, and to you._

 _Are you sure that's all?_ A different, warm, dreamy voice said. _The way she had the situation under control when you got there, stun-gunning one of her captors and then grappling with that Were, Pelt. Don't tell me you aren't smitten with her. She's extraordinary._

 _Well, she said she had fairy blood, didn't she?_ The serious, rational voice said. _Explains the unusual interest._

_It's more than that. She is meant to be yours. You were meant to be together._

_She is just a human. You need to detach from your emotions. You want her physically, that's all. She will yield. She'll come to you._

_You want more. You should go to her._

_You are being weak._

“It's not like that,” Eric said out loud.

“What isn't?” Pam said.

Eric sighed.

“Nothing.”

“She should not be dating that idiot,” Pam said. “She could do a lot better,” she added, with a smirk.

“Yes, no doubt she could.”

“I always thought tall, blonde and handsome was more her type. Not bald, sweaty and furry.”

Eric gave her a glare.

"Perhaps Miss Stackhouse would do well to be single for a while."

"Hmm, sow her wild oats, eh?" Pam said with a wink. “Experiment? Maybe I could-”

"No,” Eric interrupted. “No oat sowing. Just... she just needs to stay out of trouble."

"I like when she gets in trouble. She is a great source of entertainment. I like having her around the place, getting beat up and getting you all excitable. I don't remember you ever having such an interest in a human.“

"Pam."

"It's a bit weird, obviously. But I can see why you want her, she's quite..." Pam gestured with her hands, and Eric knew she was thinking of saying something like ' _busty_ '. “You know. And now Bill is definitely out of the picture, you can take her, have sex with her again, and then get over all this... whatever it is you need to get over.”

"Just leave it," Eric said sternly. "Pop it down, step away, and back the fuck off.”

“But...”

“Allvar,” Eric growled. “Sluta.”

Pam made a sort of frustrated grumbling noise, but knew when her maker had had enough teasing. She turned and stomped out of the office.

Eric closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of everything that was tumbling around. He decided it was time to give Sookie some space. It was clear that he was getting far too emotionally involved. He'd hoped that his unusual behavior had been temporary, a mere residual aftershock of the time he was cursed. But it wasn't, was it. 

Well, the summit was coming up, and that would be something to look forward to. Sookie would be attending, but in the meantime, Eric pledged to himself that he would not be spending any more time brooding about Sookie. He would not go to her, and he would not think about her inappropriately. But if she came to him, on the other hand, well, that would be a different matter altogether. 

He sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began to think about her inappropriately.

“Pam,” he called out. She was back within seconds.

“What?”

“Make a bulk order on cantaloupes, and get Bobby to fill Bill's car with them during the day. To the brim.”

Pam smiled.

“Very good. Anything else?”

“Rotten fish and garlic, on his porch. And make it so that when he opens the screen on his door a bucket of something falls on his head. Like, I don't know, cow's urine.”

“I'll get right on it.”

Pam turned and strode back out with a spring in her step, like she was on an important mission.

Cantaloupes and stinky fish were just for starters. 

_This was just the beginning._

 


	15. There's No Skill In Crushing a Cantaloupe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the beginning of All Together Dead

Eric came out into the bar. Pam was holding a clipboard, and was behind the bar making notes of the stock.

“How do I look?” Eric asked, placing his hands on his hips, striking a pose.

“What?”

“Do I look good? For... Andre?”

Pam turned around and gave him the once over. He was wearing a fitted, black silk button-down shirt. It showed off his figure perfectly. Similarly, his black trousers were also the perfect fit, and he was wearing an understated black belt and polished black shoes. His hair was shiny and perfectly tousled, and he was looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, yes, very handsome. _Andre_ will be exceedingly impressed with the way that shirt clings to your body like a second skin. I'm sure he'll be positively glowing at the sight of your very impressive biceps, and he'll be licking his lips at that bit of chest hair you're showing.”

“I don't mean it like that, Pam. I'm supposed to be looking professional. This is an important meeting, after all.”

“You look like sex on a stick. Are you going to attempt to bargain with Andre or seduce him?”

“Neither. We are just going to meet to go over plans for Rhodes, as I explained to you.”

“And you're dressing up because...?”

Eric huffed and didn't respond. He turned on his heel, and strode back to his office.

“What time is Sookie getting here?” Pam called after him, smiling. “If she gets here early you could ask her opinion on what might float Andre's boat.”

“Did you put that sign up, Pamela?!”

She heard his office door slam, and went over to a table and picked up the sign she'd prepared earlier. It read _“We'll be ready to greet you with a bite tonight, at eight o'clock. Please excuse our delayed opening. The Staff of Fangtasia.”_ She picked up the tacks she'd found in the storeroom, and headed towards the entrance. As soon as she opened the door, her smile fell.

“Oh. You're early.”

“Yes,” Bill replied, simply.

She made a point of sighing loudly, and rolled her eyes, before she stepped aside to allow him access to the building. Then she set about sticking her sign to the door, taking her time so she didn't have to spend any more time than necessary in the company of Compton. She kept taking it off and replacing it at a different level, then standing back to make sure it was straight. Finally, Indira turned up, followed by Felicia and Clancy. After Maxwell Lee and Thalia arrived, Pam decided her sign was angled correctly, and it was okay to go back inside.

A couple of fang bangers turned up, and she closed the door in their face. _Read the sign, bloodbags._

“You've probably got a virus,” Bill was saying as she re-entered the bar area. “I could check it for you if you want. Do you download a lot of adult material?”

“No,” Indira responded shortly. “Not at all. I mainly look at photos of cute animals, and catch up on the news.”

“Whatever,” Thalia droned. 

“Who asked you? We all know what you get up to online, with that website you set up where people can log on and watch you crush metal cans between your thighs.”

“Oh, not just cans,” Thalia said. “Someone wanted me to crush a live chicken between my breasts the other night. I told them to fuck off and never come back. Then I pulverized a toaster under my armpit. Got five thousand hits.”

“Wonderful,” Pam said, rolling her eyes, before taking a seat at the table where the other vamps had congregated. Eric was still in his office, hiding from his idiot minions, no doubt. “I'm sure your followers were absolutely enraptured at that display.”

“You can bet your left tit they were,” Thalia sneered. “Stupid, worthless fucks.”

Maxwell Lee sighed and checked the cuffs of his pale blue shirt, tugging at them so they were peeping perfectly from beneath his immaculate pin-striped suit.

“Does anyone know if my cufflink has turned up yet?”

“No.”

“No,” Pam groaned. “You have the largest collection of cufflinks I've ever seen, maybe the largest collection in the world. You need to get over the loss.”

“Does anyone want a blood?” Felicia said, getting up. She took a couple of orders and went round to the back of the bar.

“Did you find out who filled your car with cantaloupes?” Maxwell Lee asked Bill.

“Do you think it was witches?” Clancy said, mysteriously. “Witches do that weird kind of shit.”

“No, on both accounts,” Bill said, pouting. “The sheriff said he was going to launch an extensive investigation, but it appears nothing came of it.”

Someone stifled a snort, and Bill looked around the room and pouted some more.

“It was most mysterious,” Felicia said from behind the bar.

“Have you ever crushed any cantaloupes?” Pam asked Thalia.

“Many,” she responded. “But they are too easy. There's no skill in crushing a cantaloupe.”

“Why would anyone do such a thing?” Indira said, shaking her head. “Why cram your car full of cantaloupes?”

Bill crossed his arms in front of his chest and huffed.

“I really have no idea.”

“Maybe because you're a bit _canta-loopy_ ,” Andre said, suddenly appearing from out of nowhere. He waggled his eyebrows and grinned, which only served to make him look even more creepy than usual. Everyone turned to look at him, and a couple of the other vamps laughed politely at his little joke.

“Ah, Andre.” Pam rose and offered him a seat. “And Mr. Purifoy, the hairy-were-vamp-crime-against-nature. Please, take a seat. I'll let Eric know we're all here. Felicia, would you fetch our guests a drink.”

She went down the corridor to Eric's office and rapped on the door twice.

“Yes.”

Pam opened the door. Eric was sitting behind his desk. She could tell he was playing some sort of game on his computer, by the way his fingers were moving on the keyboard. He'd changed into a Fangtasia t-shirt and jeans.

“Busy?”

“Very. Is everyone here?”

“Andre just arrived. Only Sookie is missing.”

“She's late,” Eric said, looking at the clock on the wall. It was one minute past seven. “Show them in. Let's do this in here, rather than out in the bar.” Eric preferred the comfort of his own office and chair for meetings. This was his domain, and nobody fucked with him in his own office, even Andre.

Everyone soon filtered in, jockeying for the best chairs. Clancy beat Bill to a prime position in front of Eric's desk, sliding in quickly like a ninja, and Bill had to retreat and make do with standing against a wall in a dark corner.

“Eric,” Andre said, acknowledging the sheriff.

“Andre.”

“Are we all here? Shall we begin?”

“Miss Stackhouse is due to be in attendance. Let's give her a couple more minutes.”

Andre smiled a little, and Eric noted his fangs were on display.

“The queen will be very pleased to have Sookie available at the summit. She appears to be very useful. Sophie-Anne was quite impressed with her actions in New Orleans.”

Eric saw Bill shifting uncomfortably in his corner. They'd yet to discuss anything about what happened during the trip. 

“She has her uses,” Eric said dryly.

“So I hear,” Andre smiled.

“Ah!” Pam stood from the arm of the sofa which she'd been perching on. “I think Sookie has arrived.” She did a little excited skip, and trotted out the door.

Eric tried to avoid any more chat with Andre by shuffling some papers on his desk, and went over a couple of reports he had to sign, which Pam had prepared.

“Sookie is quite special, do you not think?” Andre said, in his creepiest creepy voice.

“She is a human, with a special talent,” Eric said coldly, without looking up from his desk. “Her telepathy is quite useful for business in our area.”

“Not entirely human,” Andre corrected. “A talent like hers should be used for the good of the queendom, don't you agree?”

Bill stepped forward a little, and Eric looked up from his papers. Before he could respond, Pam flung the door open.

“Eric. Maybe someday one of the waitresses will get pregnant, and we can have a baby shower!”

_Baby what?_

“That would be something to see.”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Eric was relieved when the meeting was finally over. He was antsy about the trip, and about Sookie being a paid employee of the queen. He would need to oversee everything she was asked to do, as well as monitor Sophie-Anne and Andre's actions, very closely.

When Sookie got up to leave, he glared at Compton in warning, and nodded to Pam, who understood and saw Sookie out of the bar. He'd spoken at further length with Andre about the trip and general area business, until, at last, he'd left as well. Eric finally relaxed a little and closed his eyes. He listened to the _thump thump_ of the music coming from out in the bar, now that they'd opened for the evening. At some point someone came into the office, and he knew who it was.

“Why were you glaring at Sookie?”

Eric opened his eyes to see Pam standing over him, leaning on the desk, glowering.

“What?”

“You were being mean.”

“I wasn't. Did you see her out?”

“Yes, and I warned Compton not to follow her or speak with her.”

“Good.”

“You are sending her mixed messages.”

“Pam-”

“I know that the full body stretch wasn't for Andre's benefit.”

“I needed to stretch.”

“Of course you did. You are both as bad as the other. I hate seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Eric asked, exasperated.

“Miserable, and conflicted. Do you need a hug?” Pam said, seriously.

Eric clenched his jaw and tried to contain his anger.

“No. I don't need a fucking hug, Pam.”

“Well then what do you need? Eric, you're driving me around the bend. You're grouchy all the damn time, you take your frustration and anger out on everyone. You're being a pig to me too. You're no fun, and you won't talk to me about it or let me help.” Pam's lips tightened. “You need to stop being such a bitch.”

“You're the one calling me a pig, you bitch.”

“I care about you.” The words slipped out so fast they were barely intelligible. She looked away for a moment, then met his gaze again. “You know how I care. You're my maker. I don't enjoy seeing you like this. I want you to be happy again.”

Eric sighed loudly and relaxed further back into his chair.

“I am fine. Have I really been a bitch?”

“Yes. Nobody wants to speak with you, everyone is more afraid than usual. You snap at all the staff and make snarky comments about their appearance.”

Eric looked confused. “Aren't you just describing yourself there?” he said, smiling.

Pam folded her arms in front of her chest and didn't smile back. “You need to get a grip and pull out whatever got rammed up your ass. This behavior isn't good for any of us.”

Eric gave her a distinctly chilly glare. Pam was always honest, but she was pulling no punches tonight and her comments were stepping into the territory of insulting.

“Come over here,” he commanded, sternly.

Pam paused for a moment, unsure, before stepping towards him. She slowly walked around the desk until she was standing beside him. He rose from his chair, and Pam bowed her head subserviently, preparing herself for whatever punishment was to be delivered.

“I'll take that hug now, Pam.”

Pam looked up and smiled at him. Then she wrapped her arms around his torso, and pressed her cheek against his chest, squeezing him tightly. Eric responded, and rubbed her back a little.

“Ooh, yeah. That's good. That's the stuff, right there,” Eric said, before kissing her hair.

Pam smiled, and for a minute or so they just stood there holding each other.

“Is that better?” Pam asked, pulling away a little.

Eric raised his eyebrows. “Surprisingly, yes. You give good hug, Pam. They don't come around too often, but when they do, they're worth the wait.”

“We should stop now. If someone were to walk in, it could look very wrong.”

“Indeed.” 

They pulled away and Pam dusted herself down, checking for creasage.

“So, does Compton really have to come to the summit?”

“Yes. The queen will expect her little lapdog to be there.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “Him and his stupid database. Oh by the way, are we sharing a room again?”

“Yes, I'm afraid we are.”

Pam rolled her eyes, then remembered she'd been trying to cheer Eric up. 

“Oh well, I'm sure we'll have some fun. Which reminds me, did you see I sent you a special video I made, via email?”

Eric raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

“You really should see it.”

Pam gave him a wink and flashed him a fangy grin, before floating out of the office. Eric sat back down, and logged in. He clicked on Pam's email to open it, and then opened the video file, which was titled 'Bill the Mainstreaming Fraud'.

A caption came up on the screen.

“ _Don't trust a mainstreamer.”_

The film began, and Eric recognized it. Bill was walking through some woods. He stopped, leaned against a tree, and smiled. It was Bill's terrible mainstreaming infomercial. This version was a bit different though. It was overdubbed by Pam, talking in a deep voice, with an over the top Southern accent.

“ _Hi there suckers. My name is Bill Incompetenton. I'm a mainstreaming idiot bitch.”_

The film cut to a close up of his face.

“ _I'm gonna show you what I like to do in my spare time, to try to integrate into the community of the little dull town I live in. Pretending to be human can be a lot of fun.”_

Cut to Bill turning around and pointing at the camera, one eyebrow slightly raised. 

“ _Check out my man bangs.”_ Wink.

Eric smiled. His child was a genius. 

The film cut to Bill enjoying the football game. Pam made a _'whoop whoop'_ noise, before Bill turned to camera.

“ _Wow. Those young men wear really tight pants. They leave very little to the imagination, and I want to touch them all. If you want to pretend to be interested in the human way of life, then sporting events are a good place to start. This place is full of drunken hicks ripe for a draining.”_

He smiled again and turned back to the action on the field below, waving his foam finger in the air.

“ _Whoo! Nice ass!”_

The film cut to a distance shot of Bill walking through the doors of a supermarket, then a closer shot of him wandering the canned vegetable aisle. He picked up some creamed corn and placed it in his basket, before turning to the camera.

“ _If you need to gain the trust of a human you later intend to betray, why not begin by making them a casserole? If you're not sure how to do this, read a book you stupid fuck, or google 'recipe for a casserole'. You can stick any old shit in there anyway, and glamor them into thinking it tastes delicious. If, for some strange reason, your human is immune to glamoring, then rely on their good nature. They'll still eat it, even if it tastes like ass, because they won't want to hurt your feelings. Feelings. Remember them? No, me neither.”_ He picked up a can of butterbeans and placed them in his basket, before drifting out of shot.

The camera picked up on Bill at the cold meats counter. The spotty young assistant handed him a package.

“ _Here's your processed pig flesh, Mr. Compton,”_ Pam croaked over the assistant's lines. _“And my phone number as well.”_

“ _Thank you, Todd. I can't wait to get a look at your tasty man meat.”_

Bill placed the package in his basket and turned to the camera.

“ _Did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fight with Pam Ravenscroft? I once insulted her maker by suggesting that he had an unhealthy relationship with his sword, and she jumped on my back like a monkey and went apeshit on my sorry ass. She beat me to a pulp, and I cried like a little girl. I never truly recovered from the trauma.”_ He smiled at Todd again before drifting out of shot.

The camera cut back to Bill, squeezing a cantaloupe this time. He cocked his head and nodded in a ' _that's a nice ripe one_ ' type fashion, and placed it in his basket.

“ _While Eric Northman may have an unhealthy obsession with his sword, I have a strange and unhealthy attraction to cantaloupes. In fact, any soft, squishy fruits that can be easily penetrated by my tiny penis.”_

Eric laughed out loud and wiped away a little bloody tear.

The camera cut to Bill at the check out, paying for his items. He put them into a canvas shopping bag which he hooked over his arm.

“ _So, that's how to mainstream, bitches. Just pretend to be a tortured soul, gain some sympathy and trust, and you can pull the wool over any human's eyes. Make out you like the things they do, and act like a pussy. Then sit back and enjoy their delicious blood, or manipulate them however you feel necessary.”_

The film finished, with a still photo of Bill smiling and winking. A caption came up that said _“Enjoy melons responsibly. And if you see this vampire, kick him.”_

Eric saved the video to his computer, naming it  _'Bill is a Cock',_ and logged onto the wishlist of Pam's favorite shoe store. He ordered her ten pairs, then got back to work.

 


	16. Extreme (ly Ejaculatory) Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during All Together Dead

Pam stepped out of the elevator on her floor and shimmied down to her room, carrying a zipped up dress-bag, humming _'The Girl From Ipanema'_. They'd risen at the Pyramid of Gizeh hotel about an hour ago, and Pam had been sent by Eric to scope things out and find out where everyone was. She'd been all disoriented when her eyes had first opened, and when she'd gone to sit up she'd banged her forehead on the coffin lid. As she'd fumbled to release the internal latch mechanism, Eric had opened the box himself, and she looked up and glowered at his smirking face as she rubbed her head.

Eric hated coffins, and perhaps through his influence, so did she. They were unnecessarily morbid, and constrictive. Nowadays it was easy to light-proof a room anyway, but even before the Great Revelation it could be done. You just had to make sure there were no windows in the room where you went to rest, and that it was secure so that you wouldn't be disturbed by humans who would think you were dead, or by enemies, of course.

And digging a hole in the ground? Well, there were some who actually preferred to spend the daylight hours this way, buried under the earth. _Weirdos._ Pam hadn't had to do that for many, many years, thankfully. It was an emergency option only. Coffins and hidey-holes were for suckers. Eric and Pam both preferred the comfort of proper beds.

Pam was still humming her tune when she reached the door of their room. She was feeling very upbeat, since she'd not been on a trip for ages and was glad to have a change of scenery. She slid the card through the slot and opened the door.

“ _Da-da-da-dada-da-the girl from_ -Oh, Er-ic!”

“What?”

Eric was sitting in the only comfy chair in the room, a few feet away from the TV. The Discovery Channel was on, something about the sacking of Rome by the Goths in 546. Way before his time, so he wasn't grumbling too much. He was also completely naked, not even socks.

“Why?” Pam said.

“Why what?” he said, stretching his legs.

She waved her hand between himself and the TV, and then pointed in the general area of his privates.

“This.”

“Have you hooked up with a hottie already Pam?” He looked behind her, searching for Pam's latest conquest. “You sly old dog, you. We've only been awake here an hour. Your romancing skills may soon rival mine.”

Pam smiled and looked momentarily flattered, before shaking her head, closing the door, and getting back to the point.

“No, I-”

“I can always nip out for five minutes. This program is boring anyway, I thought it might be about the sacking in 1084. That was a good one.”

“Look, I haven't... wait a moment. It would take me way more than five minutes.”

“Hmm, well, however long you needed.”

“You would need to be gone at least an hour, maybe more.”

“Well if you haven't brought anyone back here what is the problem then?”

Pam held up a finger.

“One. Why do you watch television naked?” She flipped another finger. “Two. Why are you so obsessed with the Discovery Channel? Three. Why do you only ever do the naked documentary watching when we are away on a trip and sharing a hotel room? I'm fairly certain you never do this at home. You do it simply to annoy me, I'm sure.”

Eric mimicked her finger moves.

“One, because I like to be naked. You know this, Pam, this is no big news. Two. Because history is important and interesting and considerably more entertaining than _So You Think You're America's Next Top Hairdressing Dancing Idol_. _On ice_. And by the way, this is the History Channel, actually. Three. Because it makes me feel more at home.”

“But you don't do this at home!”

“I do sometimes.”

“You don't!” 

“Well I hardly watch television at home. I have more interesting and useful things to do there. Here, I have to do boring networking with vamps I have no interest in and absolutely nothing in common with. These summits are so fucking dull.”

Pam smiled.

“But Sookie is here this time. Perhaps she can keep you entertained.”

Eric made a grumbling noise. He rose from the chair and went to the bathroom, and came back wearing a small white bathrobe. It had the _'Pyramid of Gizeh Hotel'_ logo on the chest. He grabbed the remote and sat on his bed, propping himself up against the headboard. He flipped channels until he found something that looked like ' _Oprah_ ' for vamps.

“Better?”

Pam rolled her eyes, hung up her outfit bag, and kicked off her shoes. Then she sat on her bed beside Eric's and stared at the television.

“I've seen this one, change it over.”

Eric threw the remote in the direction of her head, and she caught it in her hand without even looking. She turned her head slowly and gave him a sly smirk.

“Did you see that? Skills.”

“What did you find out?” Eric asked, not reacting.

“Most of our party seem to be on this floor or the one below. Sookie is on the human floor, of course, I think it's fifteenth. The queen is further up on the fourth. Bill is downstairs in the main convention room setting up. Someone thought it would be amusing to dress me up like an extra from _'I Dream of Jeannie',_ it might have been Bill's idea, and when I find out he's going to pay. I have to wear the stupid outfit to help out down there, with _him.”_ She did a double-eyeroll-tut-and-groan combo, and flipped through the channels with increased aggravation. “I'm not going to rise to it, and will just pretend that I love dressing up like a Arabian concubine. That's about it. Oh, _The Girl From Ipanema_ seems to be on loop here and might get annoying.”

“Hmm.” Eric settled back further into his pillows and put his arms behind his head, getting comfy. “Good work Pam. Go back, was that _Columbo_?”

“I hate _Columbo_. Can't we watch _Friends_?”

“No.”

Pam huffed and switched back. They sat there in silence for a while, watching Peter Falk do his work.

“Eric?”

“Hmm.”

“About the other night.”

Eric didn't respond, and Pam thought carefully about what she would say.

“I went to visit Sookie because I wanted her to know that we weren't aware of the queen's plot that involved Bill. She should not be thinking less of you, just because you were the one who forced the truth out of that weakling.”

“You should not have gone without consulting me first.”

Pam lowered her head.

“I know. I shouldn't have, but I felt she deserved to know.”

There was a long pause, and when she finally sensed him moving she looked over at him. He was sitting up cross-legged and was looking over a laminated menu.

“Do you want room service? The menu is quite extensive. They have cocktails, and pictures of the donors.”

“She cares for you, still,” Pam said quietly. “You care for her too, but she doesn't realize.”

“This one here looks like that man out of _X-Files_ you used to like.”

“You just need to show her. Tell her. I think you would both be happier if you got it out of your systems.”

Eric shook his head almost indiscernibly, and dropped the menu on the bed.

“You know what I never really liked about Columbo?” he asked.

“What?”

“You always know who did it, right from the beginning, and Columbo works it out right away. It's always the same, and where's the fun? Peter Falk, in his trench coat, pretending to be an idiot to trap them into messing up their elaborately staged murder plot. That's why I prefer Poirot. You never know where you are with Poirot, what will happen next. I like the mystery, and the tension. It's much more exciting.”

Pam nodded in agreement.

“Poirot gets boring too, though. CSI Vegas, now that is something to watch. I'll bet it's on here somewhere.” She began flipping through the channels. “It's always on.”

Eric swung his legs off the bed and stood up.

“I'm getting ready.”

He went to the bathroom, then closed and re-opened the door, peeping his head round.

“Did you see any Weretigers about?”

“Ugh. Yes, actually I did. He was setting up his stall downstairs. He'd just finished lining up all his props and photo albums on his little table, and I pretended to trip up and fell into it, and pulled his table cloth off.” Pam grinned. “He got so angry. He was all red in the face and sweating.”

“Good work.” Eric smiled and closed the door.

“They're going to spend some time together after the summit, apparently.”

Eric slowly reopened the door.

“What?”

“When I saw Sookie at Merlotte's the other night, she said that they were going to be spending a month together. What you can do for a whole month in the company of a boring, idiot Weretiger with the sexual magnetism of a cornflake I don't know, but that's what she says.”

“Well, that will be nice for them,” Eric growled, and began to close the door again.

“Didn't he do that pit fighting?”

Eric sighed, and propped himself up against the frame of the door.

“Yes. He was quite the fighter. Do you remember when Long Shadow became a gambling addict and lost all that money when he bet against Quinn?”

“Oh yes! Didn't he bet on that Were polar bear, Gary?”

“Gary had good odds, and he was on form. It was a good bet.”

“Do you think Sookie knows about all that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well don't you think you should mention it?”

“Not really, no. Don't you mention it either.”

“But...”

“Look,” Eric said firmly, pointing his finger at Pam. “Sookie had a pretty bad reaction to the revelations I forced Bill to confess. I can't keep doing this, being the bearer of unpleasant news about her lovers. It looks desperate and weak, neither of which I am. It's not my responsibility, and it hurts her, as well. She'll find out anyway, if he doesn't mention it himself.”

“But the more attached she gets, the more it-”

“Just leave it, Pam,” Eric interrupted. “His past is common knowledge. If he does not tell her, she will probably find out while we are here in Rhodes.” He gave a shrug. “She might not even care. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Hardly the same as the Bill revelation.”

Pam opened her mouth to put up an argument, but Eric just closed the door with a finality. She sighed, found CSI Vegas, and got herself comfy.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

A little later on, Pam had gone downstairs, and Eric was just preparing to go for a wander. The queen would probably want to see him, and he wanted to complain about the fluffiness of his towels. As he gave himself one last check in the mirror, there was a knock on the door. He went to open it.

A young, dark-haired vampire stood before him. Eric was fully aware of who he was, but simply looked at him with some disdain.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Northman?”

“Yes.”

“I am Christian Baruch, manager of the hotel.”

Baruch waited for some acknowledgment, but Eric didn't given him one.

“Yes,” he repeated, with increased agitation.

“We have a situation with a ceremony we are due to hold, and I've been given your name as someone who may be able to help. You are a licensed priest, I understand.”

 _What the...?_ He'd done that for a joke a few months back. You could ordain a dog, these days.

“What is the situation?”

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“Ah. Well, Mississippi and Indiana are to be betrothed this evening, but we are short a priest. The one we booked couldn't make it. Apparently he accidentally sliced an arm off someone during a ceremony the other night and he's still being held while a full investigation takes place.”

Eric sighed and closed his eyes. Great. He wasn't going to get out of this one.

“Do you have all the items required?”

“We have staff from E(E)E here,” he said, doing the bracket moves with his fingers. “Mr. Quinn has all the ceremonial paraphernalia you need.”

“Cloak, chalice, knife? All the correct paperwork?”

“Yes, yes, all of it.”

Eric groaned.

“Fine.”

“If you would come downstairs to the Ritual Room as soon as possible. I'm sure everyone will be very grateful. I myself am incredibly, most humbly-”

Eric closed the door in his face.

“Great,” he said to himself. “Just fabulous. Stupid fucking priest's license.” 

He changed into some sharper clothes, and headed downstairs.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Eric located Pam at their booth to let her know what was happening, before making his way to the Ritual Room. He knew it was the ritual room because there was a big sign outside that said 'Ritual Room'.

He looked around and headed for the stage, where there appeared to be a table set up with paper and quill pens. Mr. Cataliades was standing there talking with a female vampire. He saw Eric and waved.

“Ah! Eric. Thank you for stepping in at the last moment. I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience for you.”

“It's fine. It doesn't take very long.”

“Everything you need is here. Do you remember the ritual, and the lines?”

“Of course. For a hundred years, they may not marry any other, form an alliance with any other, blah blah, blah blah-blah, conjugal visit once a year blah.”

“Good. Good,” Mr. Cataliades smiled. “Quinn is bringing all the required items. He will be here in a moment.”

_Wonderful. This evening was just getting better and better._

“In fact, here he is now.”

Eric turned to see Quinn walking towards him, carrying a cardboard box. He was in full genie mode. And this was supposed to be his competition for Sookie's affections? It almost made him laugh out loud. Quinn stopped and held the box out to Eric.

“Everything you need's right here.”

Eric looked inside. There was a black cloak, a chalice, and a velvet box that most likely contained the ceremonial knife. He didn't bother to take the box off Quinn, and turned to Mr. Cataliades. 

“Is the wedding fancy dress?”

“I'm sorry?”

He gestured with his thumb in Quinn's direction.

“Is it Disney themed or something? Or, maybe 80's themed?” He looked Quinn up and down. “I don't know, are you supposed to be a genie or MC Hammer?”

Mr. Cataliades smiled, as did the female vamp, who incidentally was giving Eric some serious eye-fucking. 

“You know this is my official ceremonial attire, Eric. I wear it at nearly every vampire event I oversee.”

“Ah yes, so you do. It's very fetching. The gathering is a little unflattering though. Where do you even buy pants like that?”

“I had them specially made, actually.”

“And the baby oil, that's part of the official ceremonial attire as well, is it?”

Quinn thrust the box at Eric's chest, and Eric took it and smiled.

“You're jealous,” Quinn said. “You're making fun of my outfit because I'm dating Sookie, and you're not.”

Eric smiled at the Weretiger, and made sure to show plenty of fang.

“No, I'm making fun of your outfit because it's ridiculous. You smell and look like a big man-baby.”

“Well,” Quinn fumbled for a comeback. “Well, you _are_ a big baby. Waah, waah.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Sookie loves Quinn not me. Waah.”

“Come now, gentlemen,” Mr. Cataliades said, waving a hand. “Let's not have all this. There is a ceremony to prepare, and we have very little time. Eric, if you are ready?”

Eric gave Quinn a long, loaded stare, before smiling again and turning. He went to the side of the stage and prepared himself. He took the items from the box, and opened the velvet box to check the knife. Hmm. Nice. _I'm keeping that, baldy._

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Eric swiped his card and flung open the door. Pam was sitting up on her bed, wearing her bathrobe, painting her toenails. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, standing there in the doorway.

“You've got jizz on your pants,” she said, before carrying on with her toes.

Eric looked down at himself. He tossed off the cloak and went into the bathroom. He placed the ceremonial knife on the counter, quickly undressed and got in the shower. As he stood beneath the warm spray, he tried to clear his head, and assess what had just happened. He'd sensed something was wrong with Sookie, and tracked her to a service corridor. She'd been there with Andre, and he was about to force a blood exchange. Thinking on his feet, he'd suggested an alternative, and Andre had, quite surprisingly, put up little resistance.

Eric closed his eyes as he remembered biting as gently as he could into Sookie's flesh. Her blood was everything he remembered it to be, the most delicious he had ever tasted, other than full fairy blood, obviously. The taste was simply Sookie; sweet, pure, strong, full-bodied, incredibly tasty, sexually arousing, and a little bit special. Truly beautiful. 

And the feel of her mouth against his skin, taking his blood. _Fuck, it felt good._ The suckling motion at his chest, the teasing nuzzle of her nose against his nipple. It had hardly been the perfect circumstance for such an intimate moment, but it had still been incredibly arousing. Eric was getting hard again just thinking of it. 

He could already feel the strengthening of their connection. They were fully blood bonded. Eric had rarely done such a thing in his long life. He would be able to sense Sookie's emotions and presence much more strongly than before, and she his. It was likely that the bond would manifest itself in other ways, too. 

He should probably be more concerned at this turn of events, but he couldn't deny, that if he was being honest with himself, he had wanted this all along, and was happy to be bonded to her. It felt right.

“Eric!” Pam knocked at the door.

“What?”

“You'll be needing those formal pants again, should I get them dry-cleaned?”

“I'll buy some more.”

“Oh don't be stupid, I'm coming in.”

Pam opened the door and Eric could see her form through the frosted glass.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “What have you been up to? Did you get over-excited doing the priest thing?”

“Yes. I love doing ceremonies so much that it makes me come.”

“Seriously.”

“Nothing. You know me, I orgasm at the drop of a hat.”

“Something has happened. I know. I can tell. Was it Sookie? Does she have a thing for priests? Did it turn her on?”

Eric sighed and shut off the water. He opened the glass door and Pam handed him a towel.

“There was a situation. Andre was going to force Sookie to exchange blood with him. I caught them in time and offered an alternative solution.”

Pam gasped and brought her hand to her mouth.

“You bonded.”

Eric wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Well fuck a zombie!”

  
  



	17. Crispy Pamcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after All Together Dead

 

“Eric, you're flaking.”

Eric looked up at Pam, and his eyes followed her as she slid into the booth opposite him.

“You are supposed to be at home recovering,” he said, while looking over his bare arms. “And I am not flaking. I'm fully healed.”

“There.” She leaned forward and scratched her nail against his right hand, picking at his skin. A little bit flaked off onto the table, and Eric snatched his hand back.

“Pam, that's disgusting. Don't do that, especially out here in the bar.”

“You need to apply a little more moisturizer, that's all.” She sighed heavily, and stuck her bottom lip out. “I was bored, all alone. There are only so many times I can organize my extensive shoe collection before it gets tedious. I am better now anyway, I feel fine, and I'll wear pants until the skin on my leg is fully healed. It's still quite crusty. Did you want to pick at it?”

“Ugh. No, Pamela, I don't.”

“The skin burned right off, you know. I could see the bone.”

“Very nice.”

“It could have been much worse, though, were it not for Sookie. We might not even be here,” she whispered. “She came for you. She saved us both.”

She looked at him over her brows, waiting for his response. He'd not yet spoken with Sookie and thanked her. How was he even going to begin? They'd both risked their lives for each other in Rhodes, but Sookie had truly saved him. Not because she was obliged to, or wanted anything from him in return, or because she was under orders. Not because they had bonded. Because she cared for him.

“She is...” One of the most amazing creatures he had ever met? Truly strong, compassionate, and a constant surprise? Surely in love with him, given that she came for him, and not others who were in the building? “She was incredibly brave.”

Pam waited for more, but she could tell that was his last word on the topic, for the moment.

“Well, shall we have some fun then? Do something exciting?” She grinned mischievously.

“I'm working.”

“You're sitting around looking grouchy.”

“Working.”

Pam groaned.

“Entertain me.”

“If you are well enough, then do something useful. Get back to work. I have a million reports to complete and submit to the authorities about what happened in Rhodes.”

“Oh, I don't want to do that. I won't be able to concentrate. My leg is too itchy.”

Eric rolled his eyes.

“You are always such a whiny bitch when you're healing. You never know what to do with yourself. This happens every time.”

“Only with burns. You know how sensitive my skin is when it burns,” Pam pouted. “I am particularly pale and delicate. You never heard a peep out of me when I got shot with that cannon, did you?”

“That was years ago, and it wasn't even a cannon ball you got shot with. We went to the circus, and that human cannon ball misread his trajectory and landed on you in the crowd.”

“I saved his life. I fractured a rib.”

“You did, yes. And you moaned about it for the whole three minutes it took to heal, while my favorite act was on.” Eric clutched his side and made a pained face. _“Ah, Eric! I think all my ribs have collapsed into my body. They'll never heal correctly! They'll never heal! Fuck the sea lions! This might be my final death!”_

“It was actually quite a nasty injury.” Pam huffed and sat back in her seat. “Have you heard anything about the queen?” 

“The news is not good. Which is another reason I need you back at work. She is completely out of action. Andre is gone, as is Gervaise, and out of the three sheriffs who are left I am the only one with a brain. I'm practically running the whole kingdom. This is the first time I've had a moment to sit and do nothing all week.”

“Oh.” Pam looked a little guilty. “Well, you should have told me, I could've been working from home.”

“You needed time to heal.”

“I'm fine now. What do you need me to do?”

Pam looked at him eagerly, and he smiled at her.

“Lots. Right now, you can just sit with me for five minutes, and amuse me. I could do with some amusement.”

“Shall I tell you a joke?”

“Please, do. Your jokes are always _soooo_ side-splitting,” he said, sarcastically.

“Okay, okay. Here's one, you're gonna love it. I went into this store that sells foreheads. The assistant came up to me and said 'can I interest you in buying a forehead?' I said 'no, I'm just browsing'.”

Eric stared at his child, without so much as a smirk.

“How very droll,” he said, grimly.

“Well, you just didn't get it. It went right over your head, I can tell. It was too highbrow for you. Highbrow.” She winked, but Eric stayed stoney-faced. 

“Are you poking fun at my proud forehead, Pam?”

“Of course not.”

“Is that really the best you can do for entertainment?”

Pam smiled to herself and rummaged in her purse. She pulled out her cell phone, and Eric heard the soft beep of the buttons as she dialed.

“Who are you calling?” Eric asked.

“Ah, Sookie,” she said pleasantly into the phone. Eric's face hardened. “How are you? Are you at work? Oh, good you're at home. Well, I just wanted to tell you my new joke. Eric didn't find it funny, but I think you might appreciate it. Oh yes, I'm fine, almost completely healed, and Eric recovered very quickly. Shall I tell you the joke?”

Eric rolled his eyes and shook his head. He wondered what Sookie was doing, what she was wearing. Was she in bed? Curled up on the sofa? Was she alone? He reached out to feel her through their new blood bond. It was more difficult over large distances, unless the emotion was particularly extreme, but he could make out a sort of happiness. She was relaxed, and pleased to hear from Pam.

“I went into this store that sells eyebrows. Oh, no, wait a minute, it wasn't eyebrows, it was, er...”

“Foreheads,” Eric sighed.

“Yes, that's right. I went into this store that sold foreheads. The assistant came up to me and said 'can I interest you in buying a forehead?' I said 'no thanks, I'm just browsing'.”

Pam smiled, waiting for Sookie's reaction. Her smile slowly fell.

“No, that was the joke. I didn't really go into a store that sells foreheads. There's no such place, is there?” Pam looked confused and seemed to be doubting herself. “It's a play on words. Browse. Brow. Forehead.”

Eric smirked.

“Oh yes, well done, well done. Very funny, Sookie. It was good though, wasn't it? Did you like it? Yes, I knew you would. Eric is sitting here with a face like a smacked backside. Hmm? Quinn? No, I have no idea where he is, and I wouldn't care. How is that lovely housemate of yours? The witchy one?”

Pam smiled and waggled her eyebrows, and Eric became more concerned.

“Well, do say hello from me. She has very good taste in casual wear. You can relay my compliment to her, if you like. Tell her that I thought she had very nice posture, and she seemed like she'd be a dirty bitch in the bedroom.”

Eric could hear Sookie's shriek at the other end of the line.

“What? Alright then, don't say that. Do you want to speak with 'the man'? He's been very busy, but he talks about you all the time-”

Eric snatched the phone, and Pam smirked.

“Sookie.”

He felt a calm serenity at hearing her voice. He tried to picture her lips speaking the words as she made some pleasantries. He imagined running his tongue over her bottom lip, before gently nipping at it with his teeth, then soothing it again. He wanted to feel her warmth against his skin, and he wanted to be surrounded by her scent. He wanted her, period.

“No, I'm fine. It's busy. There's a lot of work to do here, and Pam has been shirking her duties. Hmm. No, she's fully recovered now, apart from her crispy leg.”

Eric looked at his child and smiled, and Pam glowered at him.

“Don't mention the crispiness,” she whispered.

“Yes, she's been rearranging her shoes back at her nest while I've been doing all the work. Did you enjoy her joke? Yes, I quite agree, comedy is not one of her strengths. I could only teach her so much. Are you well? Hmm, yes, that's probably the bond.” He threw a shifty glance at Pam and lowered his voice. “I was thinking of you, I believe.”

Pam waggled her eyebrows again.

“Yes, well, it probably will feel a little odd. We're you thinking of me earlier, Sookie? Oh, one of your romance novels? Hmm. I'm sure. Well, I'll be in contact soon. Perhaps you could read me one of the naughtier passages. Oh, alright.”

He looked at Pam.

“What?”

“Sookie has a joke for us. Yes? Oh, wonderful.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “She says it's a Viking one.”

“Oo.”

He smiled as he listen to her, then repeated it for Pam.

“The Norse God Thor visited Earth one day, and he met a beautiful maiden. Was she blonde, Sookie? Well, I just wanted to get a good picture in my mind. Good. She's blonde,” he relayed to Pam.

“Uh-huh. Does she have nice legs?”

“Pam is asking if she has nice legs.” He listened to her response, and looked at Pam. “She says 'foof about the legs, let me get on with the joke'. Yes, go on then, Sookie.”

“I was just wondering. I do enjoy a shapely leg.”

“He wooed her and used all of his best sexy moves on her and they spent the night together. What did they do, Sookie? Well, do you have any details? Mm, excellent. She says they had hot, rampant sex, all night long,” Eric relayed, with a fangy grin. “Like rabbits.”

“Oh, well that's sweet.”

“Was it like the sex we had while I was at your house, that I still can't remember? Hmm? Alright, fine. Tell your joke. I will remember it though, one day.” He listened with a smirk on his face. “The next morning he decided to reveal his true identity to the woman. 'I am Thor', he said.” Eric waited, listening intently, before he began chuckling. He shouldn't really be chuckling out in the bar with people watching, but he couldn't help it. “Oh, Sookie. You are a comedy genius!”

“What? What's the punchline?” Pam asked.

“Oh!” Eric was still laughing, and Pam could hear Sookie in hysterics on the other end of the phone. “Ah! Fine, go. Go.”

He put the phone down, and calmed his laughing until he was just grinning like a loon.

“What?”

“She was laughing at her own joke and had to run to the bathroom. She said she was going to pee.”

“Yes, but what was the punchline?” Pam asked with increased frustration.

“Where was I up to?”

“He reveals his identity. 'I'm Thor'.”

“'You're thor!' she says. 'Listhen buthter, I'm tho thor I can hardly thit down!'”

Pam laughed out loud, and it was her embarrassing dying elk laugh. Half the people in the bar turned to look at her, until Eric glared at them and they went back to their own business.

“That is the best Viking joke I ever heard!” Pam said, slapping her hand against her thigh. “Brilliant. She is truly a talent. Multi-talented!”

“Alright Pam, calm down. People are staring, and we have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yes, sorry.”

“What is all this about her witchy friend?”

Pam dabbed at her eye.

“Ah. Thor.” She shook her head, and tried to compose herself. “You know about her, she's that witch from New Orleans who moved in with her.”

Eric nodded. It was something he'd meant to find out more about, but hadn't yet gotten around to it. Witches, of course, we're hardly the most appropriate house guests. But if she could be trusted, and she was adept at her craft, well, that might be some form of protection for Sookie at her house.

“You have spoken with this witch?”

“Yes, when I visited Merlotte's last. Her name is Amelia. She seems pleasant. Easy on the eye. I think she was quite enamored with me.”

“Do you like her?” Eric asked with a smile.

Pam shrugged. “She's quite pretty.”

“Well perhaps you should ask her out.”

Pam raised an eyebrow.

“So I can find out more about her? In case she has ulterior motives, staying with Sookie?”

“She is a witch, but she is human. Sookie will be able to read her anyway, so I'm sure she is satisfied with her character if she's invited her into her home. I will do my own background checks. You could do with some fun.” His face hardened and he pointed a finger at his child. “But make sure she is respectable, and don't do anything to anger her. I really don't want any more curse problems.”

“Fine.”

One of the human staff, Lizbet, appeared at the table and bowed.

“Master, there is a call for you,” she said, holding out the cordless phone. “Did you want to take it here or in your office?”

“Who is it?” Eric asked.

“Narl? I think it was Narl, maybe Neil, er, Briggand. Or something.”

Eric looked confused, and then his eyes widened.

“Brigant? Niall Brigant?”

“Yes! Sorry, master. That's correct.”

Eric was momentarily stunned.

_Shit._ He was no fan of Niall, and could only think of one reason why the fairy prince would be calling him. It wasn't to tell him a Viking joke.

He took the phone, and went to his office.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

“Niall?”

“Ah, Eric! I was just enjoying that lovely music while I was on hold. Quite melodic. I admit it had me tapping my toes.”

“Nine Inch Nails.”

“No, I just recently had a pedicure, actually, though they were getting quite long.”

“Is there a reason you called me? Or should I put you back on hold?”

“Of course. It's been a long time, vampire.”

“Yes.” _Thankfully,_ Eric added to himself. “I believe it was 1988. We had some issues with a psychotic wood-elf, resulting in the bloody Battle of the Two Great Oaks. Many lives were lost.”

“Many were, yes. But I think we saw each other more recently than that. _Attack of the Clones_ , wasn't it, at the Showcase, a few years back? I saw you in the line at the box office.”

Eric sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“Can we cut the small talk, Niall?”

“You have recently bonded.”

Eric immediately stiffened. Not in a good way.

“I have.”

“She is my kin.”

Eric's heart sank. He'd been hoping that Sookie's little bit of fae heritage would not come back to haunt her, that it was the result of a quick human fling with a fairy of absolutely no consequence, generations back. Fairies were nothing but trouble, and royal fairies more so.

“What is she to you?”

“Sookie is my great-granddaughter. I have been watching over her for many years, in one form or another. Since her more recent forays into many dangerous situations, I entrusted her care to Claudine. She's aware of her fae blood. Now I think it's time I met her formally.”

Eric closed his eyes, and considered his response.

“Why?”

“I would simply like to know her, and help her.”

“She does not need your help.”

“Perhaps she should be the judge of that. I want you to set up our meeting.”

“Why me? Why not Claudine?”

“I want someone outside my kind to introduce us. I think she'll be more comfortable this way. She trusts you, and you are bonded. This could be quite an overwhelming moment for her. You can reassure her.”

Eric tried to think of some way of getting Sookie out of it, but there was no other option. Niall would find some other way, and the fairy was right, it would be better if he was there to oversee the meeting, and support her. Protect her, if it came to it.

“When?”

“Shall we say Monday, around 8:00? At Les Deux Poissons?”

Niall's French accent was terrible, he pronounced it _'less derks poosoon'_ , but Eric didn't mention it.

“Yes. I will check with Sookie, and let you know if the day is not good for her.”

“Excellent.”

Eric hung up the phone, and immediately banged his head against the desk a few times. They'd just got rid of Andre in the bombing, and the queen was out of action for the moment, and now this. Niall might have said he just wanted to get to know his kin, but surely there were other ulterior motives? He was hardly popular, even with his own kind, and his enemies might be a threat. What if he wanted to use Sookie somehow for his own benefit?

Eric banged his head a few more times. Keeping Sookie Stackhouse safe was becoming a full time job. And if the queen didn't pull through, they might have even more problems. Without Sophie-Anne being betrothed to another monarch, the kingdom would be fair game and ripe for the taking by another. They would soon find out about Sookie, if they weren't already aware of her.

He lifted his head from his desk and slowly opened his drawer. He looked at the bundle that was in there; the ceremonial knife wrapped up in a square of black velvet. He stared at it for a while, before slamming the drawer shut again.

  
  



	18. The Wrath of Ravenscroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during From Dead to Worse

“Pam!”

Eric called out for his child from behind his desk, and used his maker pull to drag her in more quickly. She soon appeared, mascara wand in hand.

“What's the rush? I hate when you do that, no matter what I'm doing I have to just stop and come to you. It is very annoying.”

“I just got off the phone with Sandy. The king will be here tonight to visit Fangtasia.”

“The king?” Pam became more alert. “What time?”

“Within the next hour. He has requested some items be made available for his visit.”

Pam rolled her eyes and cocked her hip.

“What, like a rider? Who does he think he is, Mariah Carey?”

“I need you to find some yellow petunias, a red velvet cushion, and a dark-haired, olive skinned, curvy human female, aged 21-28, around 5 feet 5.” He held up a piece of paper he'd scribbled some notes on, and quickly rolled off the rest. “And a grand piano and a footstool and one of those hairless cats.”

Pam stepped forward and snatched the paper.

“Fucking fuck. How am I...? A piano?”

“He realizes this will cause disruption and wants the customers out of the bar tonight. Gather all our people.”

“What?! But the bar!”

“Just do it,” Eric said with a sigh.

“He comes swanning in, taking over our state, killing our colleagues, and then expects the red carpet treatment?”

“He is our king now, Pam. Let's remember you took out some of his people, as well.”

“Oh yes,” Pam smiled. “Like those two I cornered around the back of Toys R Us. I taught those bitches not to fuck with Louisiana.”

“Hmm, and the rest. How many was it that felt the wrath of Ravenscroft?”

“Twelve. I was a whirlwind of carnage.” She spun around and did some fancy kung-fu moves. “Boom! Taste my pain, bitches.” She roundhouse kicked a box full of Fangtasia mouse pads sitting on a shelf and got her heel stuck. It took her a while to extract it, and Eric just looked on, amused as she fumbled with her pump.

“Cardboard boxes everywhere are trembling with fear.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, slipping the shoe back on.

“You did very well during the takeover, and I'm exceedingly proud of you. But it would be best not to mention it around the king, or show off about it. In fact, you should probably suck up to him a bit.”

Pam sighed and slouched, her arms hanging loose in front of her body.

“I don't want to.”

“Gör det.”

“Fine, fine, if it pleases you.”

“Good.” He gave her a warning glare. “You should know something else. I retrieved some memories last night.”

Pam cocked her head.

“ _The_ memories?”

“ _The_ memories. Although it seems that some of the things that you told me happened were not restored.” He narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingers on his desk. “Isn't that odd?”

Pam looked away, shifty-eyed. 

“That is odd. Perhaps there are still some memories that you haven't recovered yet.”

“Oh, I don't think so. I went over everything very carefully, in quite some detail. For some reason me taking harp lessons never came up, or me wearing a fluffy sweater with polar bears on it and hiding behind the sofa every time I saw Chow. Or me riding a donkey into battle.”

“Shut up, you never believed all that anyway. It was just a bit of fun. So, you remember your time with Sookie.” Pam raised her eyebrows and gave them a serious waggling. “Was it good?”

Eric shifted a little in his chair.

“Quite good, yes.”

“I'll bet. Are you going to give me some details?”

“No.”

“Go on. Spill the sex beans.”

“Sex beans?”

“Tell me _everything_.”

“Don't you think we have more pressing matters? I think you should be finding velvet cushions and hairless cats, don't you, Pam?”

Pam huffed and rolled her eyes, then looked at the list again.

“Yes, yes. I will go find these things, although I have no idea where to find a grand piano at this late time and at such short notice.” She wandered out, and carried on mumbling all the way down the corridor. “And how will we even get it through the door? It's completely absurd.”

Eric was not going to share his memories of those private moments with Sookie. They were for the two of them, alone.

He'd spent five nights at her house, that was all. But so much had happened in that time. They'd shared some very intimate moments, and three of those five nights he and Sookie had enjoyed some magnificent sex. His eyes went dreamy, and his fangs ran out. He leaned on his elbow, stared at the wall, and recalled that third night. Their shower, their first time together, how perfect it felt. Lying beside her, feeling warm and content and happy. Talking with her about their history. It all felt so easy and comfortable. 

He was suddenly back in the moment, and he felt as if he could reach forward and touch her soft, bare skin, smell her perfect scent, taste her on his lips. The memory was so clear in his mind.

“I want to hear about today, but give me our background first. I find myself mightily interested.”

Sookie raised an eyebrow, then smiled.

“You are the sheriff of Area Five, and my former boyfriend Bill is your subordinate. He's gone, out of the country. I think I told you about Bill.”

“Your unfaithful former boyfriend? The one whose maker was the vampire Lorena?”

“That's the one. Anyway, when I met you at Fangtasia it was to try to get some information about some girls that had been killed. Bill took me, and we met and talked while I was there, only briefly. Then you got Bill to bring me back another time, you summoned me there to help you read the minds of your human staff, because some money'd gone missing at your club.”

Eric stared at Sookie wide-eyed.

“I summoned you there?”

“You did, yeah. We kind of made a bargain, and I helped you. Turned out it wasn't a human who stole from you though, it was one of your vamp minions, Long Shadow.”

“No.”

Eric stared at her, his mouth open in shock, and Sookie smiled at him. He could tell she was happy to be sharing their history, and his oblivious reaction seemed to amuse her. He was eager for knowledge about himself, and if it involved Sookie, so much the better. Plus her stories were exciting, and he found the sound of her voice soothing.

“Yes. Would you believe it? Right under your nose, with your reputation? And when he realized I was onto him, he came at me! He was gonna kill me!”

Eric was even more amazed and distraught at this new revelation, and Sookie stroked his face lightly. Her touch made him relax immediately.

“But you staked him before he could do me any harm. Which, well, it was a nice thing to do, since I didn't really know you and I was just a human and all.”

“I staked him?”

“You did.”

Eric felt proud of himself. He'd protected her.

“Good. He should not have tried to hurt you, or steal. I am glad I did that. What else, lover?”

“Oh, wow. What else? Well, I got clawed by a maenad. I was in a real bad way, and you arranged for a special supe doctor, Dr. Ludwig, to help me. You helped get the poison out too. Then you sent me to Dallas to do some work, to help find a missing vampire, and we had some trouble there with the Fellowship of the Sun...”

“The fellow-what-of-the-what?”

“Fellowship of the Sun. They're religious nuts and they propagate vampire hatred. Real ugly people. Anyway, there was a bomb and you got me to suck a bullet out your chest.”

“I did what?”

“Yeah, you sort of tricked me with that one. I thought you were gonna die, but you weren't really. You can be kind of sneaky sometimes. Anyhoo, let's see. Then you chaperoned me to this orgy, and the maenad turned up. She was a little crazy.”

“Wait, go back. I chaperoned you to an orgy?”

“Yeah.”

Eric shook his head.

“This is quite a story that you and I have.”

“Hm-mm. It is a little weird, actually, and let's face it, none of this is getting any more normal, is it?”

Eric began running his fingers absently up and down her bare arm.

“What did we do at this orgy?” he said, his voice mischievous and seductive.

“Oh, it wasn't like that. I wasn't there to, well, you know, get it on with a bunch of folks while other people watched.” She looked him in the eyes and shook her head. “I don't do things like that.”

“Of course not,” Eric said, with total sincerity.

“I was there to read people's minds, to find out who murdered my friend Lafayette. You were the only person I could trust to go with me and not be embarrassed and who'd stand up for me if things turned nasty. We might've done some kissing, as part of the act.”

“Did you find out what you wanted to know? Did I help you?”

“Yeah, I found out all right. The whole thing was pretty awful, but you did good. You made sure nobody was getting their paws on me, and you made a totally convincing bi-curious horny vampire. Plus you look really good in pink Lycra.”

Eric's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Pink what?”

“It's like a tight stretchy material. And, well, you're a big guy, and it stretched _real_ tight. There wasn't much left to the imagination.”

“You liked it?” Eric said with a smirk, twining their legs.

“I did. I wouldn't admit it at the time, but I liked it very much. I think you probably guessed I would. You seem to enjoy teasing me.”

As if she was remembering just how much she'd enjoyed his outfit, she ran a hand over his shoulder, sighing as she felt the smooth, solid muscles beneath her palm, then ran it down his back and over his butt. A warm smile appeared at her lips, lighting up her face, and Eric laughed. He liked to be desired by her, and he liked the way her hands claimed him as her own.

“I should wear some more of this Lycra. Keep talking, lover. I enjoy the sound of your voice, and I long to know more.”

“Well, then Bill went missing. He was working for the queen, and that's why you sent me to Jackson to look for him. The database thing he was working on was sort of important to the area. I mean, I wanted to find him too, I guess. You were there as well, some of the time.”

“And that's where you got staked?”

“Yeah. In a Were bar, Club Dead. Well, it was actually called Josephine's, but that's what everyone knew it as, anyway. So we were there, you were sort of undercover, and then this Fellowship guy came in and pulled stake. I tackled him, and got injured in the process.”

He hated the idea of this beautiful creature being harmed, and being in pain. He was also impressed at her bravery and strength. So human and vulnerable, yet so resilient and spirited. He inched closer, and ran a hand down her spine, before cupping her butt in his hand, squeezing gently.

“And then?”

“Then we went back to the king, Russell Edgington's mansion, and you stayed with me while they worked on the wound. Then, like I told you last night, you gave me your blood to help me heal so I could save Bill.”

“From the vampire ho, Lorena.”

“Hm-mm, that's right. And, um...” Sookie paused and looked away.

“What is it?” He stroked at her flushed cheek with the back of his finger. “Did something happen, Sookie?”

“We, er... well, you might've done something. We kissed, before I took your blood, and...”

“What? We have just had sex, you cannot be shy of me now. I'd like to know.”

Sookie screwed her eyes up so she didn't have to look at him while she explained. 

“When I woke up, you were in bed with me. We kissed, and you touched me, _intimately_.”

Eric smiled. They'd been quite close before. Closer than he'd realized. Sookie opened one eye and stole a glance to check his reaction, and he kissed the tip of her nose. He ran his fingers lightly over her chest, down her body and between her thighs.

“Here?” he said huskily. 

“Oh. Yeah, right about there.” She giggled and pushed his arm away. “Let me tell the story first.”

Eric grinned and refocused.

“Yes. Tell me more.”

“Well, then Bubba turned up and we stopped before things went too far.”

“Who?”

“Oh, yeah. I'd explain fully, but you probably still wouldn't know who Bubba was. He's a vamp. He moves around a lot, but he kind of helps out sometimes.”

“Hmm. I don't like this Booba. And then you drank my blood?”

“Bubba. I did drink your blood, yeah, and it got you kind of excited. _You know._ ”

“Oh, I see. I think I do. Did you bite me?” He thought about when she'd nipped him in the shower. He nuzzled her neck and ear with his nose. “I like when you do that. You could do that again, perhaps.”

He felt Sookie shiver, and rubbed himself against her a little.

“No, _mm_. No, I didn't. Eric.” She pushed at him slightly with her hand while at the same time pulling his body in closer with her leg, and he laughed at her reluctant determination.

“I am attempting to remain focused. I seem to be easily distracted with you naked beside me. You are incredibly arousing, lover.” He traced a finger down her side. “I find your body to be... _stimulating_ , in the most wonderful way. In a very physical way.”

Sookie gave him a coy yet rather sexy smile, and her eyes drifted lower.

“Oh yeah?”

He placed his lips against her ear.

“You make me ache with wanting you,” he whispered. “I would like to pleasure you again. I am already thinking about the myriad of ways I might do that.” He nipped at her lobe before pulling away. “But I want you to finish your story first.”

Eric thought he heard her mutter something like _'fudge'_ under her breath, but he couldn't be sure. Sookie closed her eyes and took a moment to calm herself, before picking up where she left off.

“O-okay. So, um, then I saved Bill. You and I drove back from Jackson together, and we had this run in with some guys at a gas station. Then, oh, I don't know, I got real mad and decided I'd had it with vamps and their stupid politics, since I kept getting beat up and nearly killed and cheated on, and all.”

“It has been hard on you,” Eric said quietly, his face suddenly serious again.

“Yes, it has. Although I guess vamps aren't always to blame. You know what my New Year's resolution was? To not get beat up. I mean, who makes a resolution like that?” 

He looked into Sookie's eyes and then linked his fingers with hers. He had an urge to protect her, to do anything he could to make sure she never got hurt again.

“You have been very brave.”

“I've been very stupid.”

“No. Not at all. This Bill person, I think he's been very stupid. I think I don't like him. That Bubba, he was the most stupid. I don't like that one, either. Perhaps I have been stupid too.”

“Well, I don't know about that. I mean, you've kinda been there for me. When Long Shadow went for me, and when I needed to go to that awful orgy, you looked out for me.” She smirked and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “In your own inimitable way. And when I got staked at Club Dead, you stayed with me. You got my driveway re-graveled, too. I can't tell you how much I appreciated that.”

It made Eric feel a little better to hear this. She seemed to trust him, and he had cared for her. But how could he not care for this beautiful, amazing woman? He would give her all the gravel she wanted. He would give her a mountain of gravel, if it made her happy.

“I think you have been leading a dangerous life, Sookie. I'm glad I've been around to help you when you needed it, although it sounds like I did not help keep you away from some of those situations in the first place. You have helped me, too. After all this, all your trouble with vampires, you still picked me up from the road.”

Sookie sighed, and did her best to shrug in the position she was lying.

“I did. I like you, Eric. You're my friend, in a weird way, and you needed help.”

“I think you are wonderful.”

He truly did. He wanted to make her _feel_ wonderful, too. She deserved to feel wonderful. He cupped a breast in his hand and brushed his thumb across the nipple. He teased her, flicking the tight bud, feeling it harden beneath his touch, and Sookie let out a sigh.

“So I guess that's it, in a nutshell,” she breathed. “Our history.”

Eric lowered his mouth and replaced his thumb with his lips. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, before sucking on the hard nub. He nipped a little with his teeth, then allowed his fangs to sink into her skin, and drew more strongly on the wounds.

“ _Ooh, Eric_.” His name left her lips in a whisper as soft as a snowflake, and he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again.

She let out perfect bleats of pleasure and raked her fingers through his hair. Her body shifted forward, and Eric took her behind the knee, hooking her leg over his hip. He let go of her breast and gave a couple of long licks to heal the wounds. Then he looked into her eyes, and slowly eased himself into her. Sookie let out a deep sigh, and pushed her hips forward to give him deeper penetration.

“I think perhaps we have wanted each other for some time,” he said, thrusting gently. “But we never found the right moment.”

“Things have just been a little... complicated.”

“This is better,” Eric whispered. “Doing this sounds much better than what we did before.”

“Yeah. This is, well... _Eric_.”

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with a soft intensity. He kept up with his slow hip motion, each plunge a deep sweep of pleasure for the both of them. With one arm he cradled Sookie's head, bunching her hair in his hand and tugging gently, with his other free hand he sought out every inch of her soft, bare skin he could, trailing his fingertips up and down her spine, cupping and squeezing her breasts, kneading her hip, lifting her knee. She did the same, her hands gripping him with a pleasantly surprising firmness, her lips and tongue sweeping across any part of him they could, her teeth softly grazing his skin.

It was a sensory overload and he never wanted it to end.

But more than anything he longed to watch her come again. He slid his hand in between their bodies, and as he wound his hips in a way he could tell Sookie was enjoying a great deal, his fingers found her pleasure center. As she screwed her eyes up and moaned out with her pleasure, Eric nuzzled at her, encouraging her to open her eyes, to look at him. She did so, gripping him behind the neck with both hands, and they watched each other's pleasure build.

“Oh, yes, Eric. Yes.”

Eric thrust harder and with an increased tempo, and with a final flick of his fingers against her slick nub, she came undone. He watched intently as her mouth opened, her eyelids flickered, and she let out the sweetest moans of pleasure he had ever heard.

He came straight after her, in a divine rush of intensity. Then he held her close against his body, enjoying her warmth and the feel of her hammering pulse against his chest.

“Mmm. Sookie.” _My Sookie. My lover._

She smiled up at him, with a faraway look in her eyes, as they held each other. She ran her forefinger over his cheek and across his lips. He opened his mouth for her, and as she put her fingertip inside, he gently bit down.

“Hey!”

Eric released it and sucked on the tip instead.

“Is that better?” he said, smiling sweetly.

She ran her finger over the point of a fang, and pressed up into it, until it drew blood.

“They're so sharp. How do you not bite yourself the whole time when they're out?”

Eric sucked on her finger again, before swirling his tongue around and releasing it.

“I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“Eric.”

“Yes.”

“Eric, the king's here.”

“Hmm?”

“Hello? Earth to Eric.” Pam snapped her fingers in his face. “The new king. Here. Fangtasia. Now.”

Eric sat up straight and wide-eyed.

“Shit.” How long had he been in here recalling the memory? “Is everything ready?”

“Yes. His car just pulled up.”

“Did you get all the things he wanted?”

“Er, yes. No. Yes.”

“Which is it?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, let's greet our new king. Give him a rip-roaring Fangtasia welcome, hmm?”

Eric stood.

“How do I look?” he asked.

Pam looked him up and down.

“Very excited to see him.”

He looked down at himself, then let his head fall back and closed his eyes. He thought about Quinn and Bill in bikinis, making out in a kiddie pool. They began frolicking, splashing water on each other, and Bill's bikini top popped off and he coyly covered himself with his arms. Quinn began crawling towards him with a mischievous glint in his, frankly quite weird, purple eyes. Bill licked his lips seductively and dropped his hands.

“Oh, that's just...” he shook his head and opened his eyes. “Better?”

Pam looked down.

“Much. What were you just thinking about?”

“Believe me, you don't want to know. It's some seriously disturbed shit.”

Eric strode out into the bar, and Pam followed him. The king was just entering, with his entourage in tow. This consisted of Victor Madden, Sandy Sechrest, and two other vamp minions. 

He had a quick look around; all the Area Five vamps were there, and a few from the other, now sheriff-less areas of the state. There were yellow petunias on every table, great bouquets of them. Bill was sitting stiffly behind a Bontempi organ on a stand, and Pam gave him a nod as the king came in. He flicked a switch and a backing track started up that Eric guessed might be called 'bossa nova', and he began playing some horrifically upbeat, bouncy tune.

Eric gritted his teeth and knelt before his king, and his minions followed suit.

“Ah, sheriff! What a very special welcome! Rise, rise. All of you.”

Eric kept his head lowered.

“Your majesty... I swear my alleg-”

“Yes, yes, I know. You have pledged your allegiance once, there is no need to do it again, Viking. Up.” He gestured with his hands. “Up!”

Eric got to his feet and Bill started up on the organ again. Felipe glanced over and had a sort of confused look on his face, and Sandy and Victor, standing behind the king, were looking at each other with amused disgust. 

“It seems there was a problem with the grand piano,” Eric said, looking sideways in Pam's direction.

“Oh, this is no matter. I very much enjoy all music.” Felipe's head whipped in Eric's direction, his eyes suddenly fierce. “Apart from the accordion. You do not like the accordion, do you, Eric?”

“No, your majesty. Absolutely not.”

Felipe smiled, his handsome face suddenly warm again.

“Good! This is good, I think we will get along very well. Do you do requests, organ man?”

He wandered over to Bill, taking off his big leather gloves in the process, draping them over his forearm.

“Of course, your majesty,” Bill answered, keeping his head lowered.

“How about _Unbreak My Heart_ by Toni Braxton, that is very good. One of my favorites.” Bill shook his head, completely blank. “Ricky Martin? _Shake Your Bon Bon_?”

“Um...”

“The Pussycat Dolls, then. No? Your repertoire is quite limited, I think.” He turned. “Eric, your organ monkey man needs to learn more tunes. Sandy will prepare a list of my favorites.”

“Yes majesty,” Eric said, bowing his head, smirking slightly.

“So,” Felipe said, striding around like he owned the place. Which, well, he sort of did now. “This is Fangtasia. I like it Eric. It is very nice. I am very pleased that you chose to stand down after we arrived, I think it showed great strength and wise.”

Sandy stepped forward.

“Intelligence, your majesty, not wise.”

Felipe was suddenly in front of her and slapped her across the face with his gloves.

“Do not correct me in front of my new subjects! I know what I mean. Eric here, he knows what I mean! Even monkey organ man over there, he knows what I mean!” He whipped his cape back over his shoulder to accentuate his displeasure, and began muttering in Spanish.

“Cerdo tonto.”

Eric filed that little tidbit away for future reference. _Do not correct king's English._

“Would you care for a drink, majesty?”

Felipe smiled. “Yes. And you minions, you can all stop staring and go about your business now. Thank you.” Everyone started bowing and shuffling off. “Si. Very good. Very good bows, yes.”

He went to sit down, and looked at the chair.

“Cushion?”

Indira slipped the cushion on the seat and stepped away. Felipe sat down.

“Footstool.”

Thalia popped a small cushioned stool at his feet, and he rested his shiny, leather boots on it.

“Aah. Very nice. Hairless cat.”

No one moved, and Eric looked around.

“Hairless cat,” Felipe repeated, more slowly. Sandy and Victor looked at Eric and huffed. Maxwell Lee suddenly appeared, rushing through the doors, holding a cat carrier. He rested the box on a nearby table, flipped the latch, and pulled out a pale, miserable looking naked cat. He knelt and presented it to the king.

“Good.” He looked away and waved his hand. “Put it away now. It's wrinkly, and it displeases me.”

Pam came back with a hot-looking fang banger, all soft curves and pouty lips and hair tumbling down her back in long, dark waves. Just what Felipe had requested. 

“Hmm. Excellent work, Eric.” Felipe gestured to the seat opposite him, and Eric sat down. “I was right to keep you. I have heard many good things about you. You have quite a reputation.”

Eric just nodded slightly.

“You are one of the oldest in the whole country, I believe. The things you must have seen,” Felipe said, shaking his head. “The invention of the wheel, the peep-toe shoe, the pyramid, the snuggie, the battery operated fly swatter.” He reeled the list off quickly, and Eric didn't even blink at the randomness of the items, or the fact that some of them were around long before he was. “All of the people that you have seen come and go during your long life. Napoleon Bonaparte, Ghengis Khan, Chaka Khan, Bobby Darin, Justin Beiber.” He looked off into the distance with a far away look in his eyes, and he was staring so hard for so long that eventually Eric turned to have a look himself. He was just staring at the door to the men's restroom.

“Your majesty...”

“I am old myself,” Felipe continued, snapping out of his trance. “But you, I admire your longevity greatly. Tell me, what is your secret, Eric?”

“To not get killed again, your highness.”

Felipe smiled. “Oh, I'm sure it's much more than that. Perhaps even I will have something to learn from you. I think I will stay in Shreveport for a few days. I hear you know how to have a good time, and after all this takeover business, I think I should enjoy myself, no? We should celebrate, don't you think?”

“Of course, your majesty,” Eric said, more somberly than he meant to. “It would be a great honor to host you.”

He heard a little groan come from Pam's direction. He looked at the king, at those gleaming white teeth and the tiny, pointless bits of facial hair, and wondered what further tests of his patience and loyalty lay ahead. Bill started up his organ again, samba this time. Eric had to close his eyes and calm himself with fluffy kitten thoughts to refrain from going over and whacking monkey-man Compton around the head with the Bontempi.

“Well then let's party!” Felipe cheered. He got up and started a conga, Victor taking hold of his waist and beckoning with his hand to encourage the other vamps to join in. Eric wished more than ever that he could be back in Sookie's house, in bed with his lover, snuggling beneath the soft sheets, smiling as she made up embarrassing yet endearing alternative names for his penis.


	19. Moobie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before Dead and Gone

“Excuse me, can I please get a picture of you?”

A young, timid-looking fang banger sidled up to Eric's booth, and he gave her a blank, if slightly annoyed glance. He hated being interrupted from his thoughts, and those who approached him like he was some minor celebrity soap star, requesting autographs or photographs, were not usually even worthy of a verbal response. Someone once put their arm around him and did the thing where you hold the camera at arms length and take a too close up picture that always turns out blurry. Result? Broken arm, some glamoring and a crushed digital camera. 

Did they not realize he was the one who did the summoning? 

He noticed she was shaking, and her pulse was racing so quickly she was likely to pass out at any moment.

“No,” he said firmly, dismissing her with a wave of his fingers.

“It'll only take a...”

Pam was suddenly standing beside the girl. He noted that his child was wearing a very fetching spangly red jumpsuit. Eric looked down at her feet, to check for legwarmers. Pam loved legwarmers back in the 80's. During that period Eric had hung onto his punk phase for as long as possible, before moving on to metal and hair rock. Pam had been in her element with Flashdance and Fame, and then the New Romantics. Happy times. Big hair.

“Pictures, calendars, t-shirts and other official memorabilia are available for purchase at the booth near the entrance, bloodbag. Now take a hike.”

The girl quickly scurried off, and picking up on his mood, Pam put her hands on her hips and stood with her back to Eric, waiting to see whether anyone else dare approach her master. She always knew what he wanted. She could read him so well.

Where would he be without his child?

Eric looked back at his cocktail glass full of lukewarm O Positive and frowned. It had been a tough couple of months. Of all his long, long life, he couldn't remember a time when he'd been more tediously frustrated. There was that time when he and Pam had traveled across the Atlantic stowed below deck on a very slow, stinky cargo ship and had to survive by nipping on and glamoring a small crew of bearded sailors who had little or no knowledge of personal hygiene. They'd rekindled their sex life, quite reluctantly, just to stay sane. Pam had taken to whittling farm animals out of bits of wood, using her teeth, and Eric gathered a collection of pebbles and frayed rope which he named after the Norse Gods and acted out plays involving their (usually sexual) escapades for Pam's amusement. Pam eventually went into almost constant downtime and Eric swore off drinking from bearded humans ever again, even if it meant his final death.

Those were truly testing times.

Anyway, for Eric, the last couple of months had been some of the most miserable on record. He'd had to host the new king and his entourage, which had been exhausting. Felipe was constantly challenging him, asking questions, and making outrageous demands for random items and entertainment, such as 'the biggest hat in the world' and husky dog racing in the Fangtasia parking lot. 

When the king had finally returned to Nevada, Victor had stayed behind to oversee New Orleans, and kept appearing at the bar unannounced, sniffing around, demanding to see accounts and reports and files and anything else that might relate to the amount of profit being made by the Area Five sheriff. Eric had shown him only what was necessary, keeping certain business dealings firmly under lock and key. 

Whenever he had a moment to think, his thoughts were always with Sookie. He felt her anxiety and worry, but he forced himself to stay away, for her own protection. Felipe was now aware of her talents, as well as their unusually close connection. No doubt he would soon be requesting to use her for his own means, and that was a worrying thought. He would need to think about remedying that problem soon. For now she was safe, and Eric had to ensure stability for himself and the Area before he would feel comfortable seeing her again.

But oh, he would see her soon. They would have a long talk about their time together, and it would end in slow, glorious, steamy sex. He would claim what was rightfully his and reacquaint himself with her in every way. Multiple orgasms would abound and he would show her what he was truly made of, when he was his true, complete self, rather than a toned down version. She would be his again. It would be spectacular. 

Pam, apparently satisfied that there were going to be no further interruptions, turned and leaned on the table.

“Guess what? That fang banger did visit the merchandise booth, and bought one of my calendars. I just saw her leave with it, with a big smile on her face.”

“There is no accounting for taste.”

“I think it is time to reveal the winner, don't you?”

“Yes, I agree. Has Maxwell Lee kept a record, as we requested?”

“He has, and I believe he's completed his report.”

“Well then, there is no time like the present. Call him in for a meeting, in one hour. Let's have the verdict. Prepare yourself for an oral sensation the likes of which you have never experienced before. I think Bill might even enjoy it.”

Pam smiled confidently and nodded, before heading for the phone. Eric mirrored her cocksure smile, but inside he was praying that his confidence was not misplaced. 

_Please, please Thor, let my titillating, nude vampire calendar have sold more copies than Pam's. Please._

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

“And so,” Maxwell Lee said, using his telescopic pointer to focus attention on the color key for the graph he was presenting. “As you can see, overall, the female vamp calendar outsold the male calendar eight to seven. Having done some market research I believe many consumers found Pam's glossy, high-end calendar with the erotic yet very artistic shots to be of a superior quality, and in particular-”

“What?” Eric said from behind his desk, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Sir?”

“I think you made some sort of mistake.”

Pam crossed her arms and rolled her eyes in the chair beside him.

“No, I'm sorry sheriff but I was very meticulous, as you both asked me to be. This is absolutely correct, right down to the last unit. It was a very profitable venture, though, as I can demonstrate here.” He flipped a page on his chart. “In the first month alone we saw profits of-”

“Have you double checked the figures?” Eric interrupted.

“Yes, of course.”

Eric let out a little groan, and rubbed at his temple.

“Triple? Perhaps you could get an outside agency to do some sort of independent verification.”

“Oh come on,” Pam scoffed. “Just accept it. You lose.”

“I never lose, Pam,” Eric said, turning to her. Sensing trouble, Maxwell Lee started gathering up his flipchart and pens, and hurried out the door. “You must have cheated.”

“I certainly did not. I can account for every single unit sold.”

“I've been distracted with the takeover.”

Pam turned her body towards him in her seat. 

“I was distracted too, I had to do all the running around for Felipe,” she said, waving a hand. “And I had the crispy leg after Rhodes. I was out of action for days.”

Eric rolled his head on his shoulders.

“Oh, you always go on about how crispy your leg was. You had extra time at your nest to flog your wares over the internet, while I was here holding the fort.”

“Stop making excuses. You lost. You _lose_.”

She made an 'L' shape with her thumb and forefinger, and brought it to her forehead, and mouthed ' _loser_ '. 

Eric sighed heavily and sat back in his chair.

“That's a backwards 'L', Pam. If you're going to mock me then please make the effort to get it right, otherwise you're just embarrassing yourself.”

She swapped hands and repeated her action.

“I would still like a recount,” Eric muttered.

“You know what this means.”

Eric shook his head.

“Not happening, Pam.”

“The moobs.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Bill's moobs.”

“Not possible.”

“Your tongue.”

“No fucking way.”

“Bill's hairy moobs.”

“Stop it!”

Eric pushed at the chair she was sitting on and tipped her over in it. Pam reacted quickly and rose to her feet before she hit the floor. She casually dusted herself down and walked to the door, a little extra shimmy in her strut. She stopped with her hand on the door handle and turned her head.

“Moobs,” she whispered. 

Eric flung his telephone at her, and she dodged it. 

“You are too honorable to renege on the bet, and you know I always follow through when I lose.” She gave him a fangy grin. “I'll leave you to ponder upon your forfeit.”

She floated out the door, ducking out of the way of a hole punch before closing it behind her.

Eric closed his eyes, calmed himself, and tried to think of some way to get out of the dire situation. He never lost bets, in fact losing at anything was almost unheard of for him, but Pam appeared to have won this one fair and square. He knew he should have made every month Eric month, rather than using pictures of Clancy and Maxwell Lee and Gerald and all those other hopelessly unappealing, frankly quite laughable minions in their terrible thongs and leather chaps. Well, it was done now. 

He slowly and reluctantly picked up the phone, and dialed with a heavy heart.

“This is Bill Compton, I can't take your call at the moment, but please leave a message with your number and I'll get back to you. If you would like any information about my vampire database, please email me at bill dot compton at gmail dot com, or visit my website at www dot bill's vampire database dot com. If this is Pam prank calling me again, please be aware that I am keeping copies of your messages as well as notes and the authorities will be contacted in due course. Thank you.”

_Beep._

“Bill, I need you at Fangtasia this evening.” He screwed up his eyes and forced himself to continue. “There is something very important I need to... discuss with you. Be here at 12:30.”

Eric hung up and stared at the wall so hard he wondered if the plaster might crack under the force of his glare. Fuck the takeover, this was a true test of his bravery and honor.

He looked at the 40 page in-depth report Maxwell Lee had prepared about the calendar sales, picked it up and flicked through the pages. As always, everything was beautifully presented, succinct, and informative.

Eric locked onto one paragraph, leaned in, and re-read it with greater attention. He read through some more of the pages, and cracked a smile.

So Pam won fair and square, did she? Oh _really?_ She was in _so_ much trouble.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Bill turned up right on time. Pam brought him into the office, before she sat herself down on a seat in the middle of the room. As Bill stood there, she looked over at Eric, grinned, and rubbed her hands together, eagerly anticipating the show.

“I need to discuss something very important with you, Bill,” Eric said somberly.

“Yes?”

“Hmm. I need to let you know that the king was very displeased with your musical talents. He'll be expecting to see an improvement, on his next visit.”

“Yes, sheriff. I'm already working my way through Barbara Striesand's back catalog.”

“And Christina Aguilera?”

“Already done.”

“Good.”

They all sat there quietly for a few moments. Pam just kept smiling.

“Will there be anything else?” Bill said, with a sigh.

“Do a naked dance for Pam.”

“What?”

Bill was clearly startled by Eric's request, and Pam sat up straighter in her chair.

“This is an official order from your superior. Take off your clothes, and lapdance for Pam. It's her turnday.”

“What?!” Pam shrieked.

“This is my gift to you. It's been 141 years today since I turned you. Take it off, Compton.”

Pam looked at him, mouth agape, and Bill remained completely still, apart from his eyes which were shifting around uncontrollably as he tried to work out what was going on and whether Eric was serious or not.

“Turning day?” Pam said. “We haven't celebrated turning day since my 100th. And anyway, it's the end of December, you turned me in the Spring.”

Eric shook his head.

“I don't think so. Bill, I don't see you stripping erotically for Pam, why is that?”

“But...”

“Don't do this,” Pam pleaded.

“Hmm?”

“It's wrong.”

“Oh come on, it'll be fun. Bill will make it quite a treat for you, I'm sure.”

“Eric, I...” Bill struggled to find the words. “I don't think I can...”

“You wouldn't be disobeying a direct order from your sheriff, would you? Because you are already teetering on a fine edge with our king, after your terrible organ performances. You have no queen to hide behind now.”

Bill pouted, and Pam looked at her master with sad, almost tearful eyes.

“I'm not very... rhythmic,” Bill said.

“Just do it,” Eric said with a sigh.

“Eric, please,” Pam whispered.

“Sit back and enjoy.”

Bill stood there, shifting on his feet hesitantly, until Eric nodded. He slowly reached up and began fumbling with the buttons of his perfectly pressed beige shirt.

“This isn't funny,” Compton said, revealing some of his chest hair.

“Oh God,” Pam groaned, covering her eyes.

“No, it isn't,” Eric said. “It's not funny at all. Open your eyes, Pam. You need to fully appreciate your gift.”

As Bill finished unbuttoning his shirt and began to undo his belt, Eric realized how quiet the office was, and wished he'd put some music on. He thought about humming a tune, but that would have just been even more embarrassing. All he could hear was the quiet shuffling of material and skin as Bill undressed awkwardly, along with Pam's tiny whimpers of despair.

It truly was a most uncomfortable scene.

Bill popped the button of his slacks and did a sort of shaky hip move. Oh God, was he beginning to get into it? Pam let out a little cry.

“This isn't a gift, Eric. It's a terrible, terrible punishment. What have I done? Aren't you the one who's supposed to be in this position?”

Bill stopped jiggling his hips.

“I'm sorry, what?”

Eric shook his head.

“Nothing. And there is no need to remove your pants. Just get your hairy man... chest in Pam's face. Wiggle a bit.”

Bill huffed, but knew he had little choice in the matter. Eric could tell that even though Compton knew he was shaming himself, on some level he was also turning the tables on Pam, taking pleasure in getting revenge for all those prank calls she had been making.

Bill let the shirt fall to the floor and stepped forward, and Pam leaned right back in her chair, trying to reclaim some distance. When she closed her legs together tightly, Bill straddled them, and preceded to thrust a bit.

Pam closed her eyes, stuck her bottom lip out and wailed.

“Mercy! Please master!”

Eric was almost ready to put an end to the shameful display, but she needed to be taught her lesson.

“Get your nipples right in her face,” Eric muttered, before clenching his fist and bringing it to his mouth, turning his head away. It was too horrendous to watch. 

Bill leaned forward and thrust a pec at Pam, almost brushing her cheek, before pulling back. He gave her a wink and gave one of his moobs a playful squeeze.

“My eyes! My eyes!” Pam cried. 

“Alright, Compton,” Eric said firmly. “That's enough!” Bill immediately retreated, and seemed suddenly embarrassed at how much he'd been enjoying himself. He picked up his shirt and quickly slipped it back on.

“How could you?” Pam said, turning to her maker. “You were the one who lost the bet. You are the one who should have been getting up close and personal with Bill's titties, not me, remember?”

“Is this another one of your childish little games?” Bill droned. “Another silly bet?”

“No,” Eric sighed, rolling his eyes. “I really wanted to give my child the gift of your erotic, sensuous dancing. Of course it was a fucking bet!”

“Which you lost!” Pam screamed.

“You cheated!”

“I'm leaving now,” Bill said, grabbing his manbag.

“Good,” Pam and Eric said simultaneously. “Oh, and Bill,” Eric added. “That was the most terrible lapdancing I've ever seen. Truly wretched.”

Bill flicked back his manbangs, gritted his teeth and left without another word.

“Eric, that was absolutely evil. I need to give my eyes a waterbath with bleach and I'm likely to wake up from my daytime rest screaming for weeks on end. Why? _Why_?”

“Because, after reading Maxwell Lee's comprehensive and very informative report, I stumbled upon some very interesting and quite disturbing inconsistencies with the calendar sales.”

Pam took a moment to digest that sentence.

“Inconsistencies?”

“Inconsistencies, yes. For example, did you know that we were out of stock of my calendar for a whole two weeks when a delivery van went missing under quite mysterious circumstances?”

Pam stared at him, wide-eyed in shock. She'd been rumbled. She knew it.

“Mysterious circumstances?”

“Hmm. I did a little extra research on this one. A delivery driver was found wandering around the back of the Toys R Us next door, apparently with some memory problems and no understanding of why he was there. The only visible sign of any physical damage was what appeared to be a small bruise on his butt cheek, perhaps similar to that which might be made when someone gets kicked in the ass with a stiletto heel. It was on the news.”

“Really?”

“Turned out he had been due to deliver some boxes here, but he had no recollection of it, and there was no sign of the merchandise, either, even after his van was recovered in the woods.”

Pam brought a hand to her face, covering her mouth.

“Oh, that's terrible.”

“It is.”

“I have no idea what this has to do with me.”

“I understand that there were a number of offers available for those who bought your calendar. Such as a prize draw where the winner would get to spend an evening getting dominated by Thalia.”

“Um...”

“Buy a calendar and get two free drinks,” Eric read. “Buy a calendar and get bitten by Felicia.” He looked up and fixed his gaze on his child. “Buy a calendar or else you might get drained.”

“Who said that?” Pam said, feigning surprise. “That's disgraceful slander!”

“Someone who Maxwell Lee contacted for feedback. And here's another interesting one. Penny Friedman, 27, housewife, said, and I quote: _I wanted to buy one with that big blonde male vampire in it, but the long blonde-haired lady vamp,”_ Eric looked up from the paper and stared at Pam for a moment, before continuing, _“who was at the booth said they were out of stock. I said I'd just take a keyring instead, and she said I should buy the other calendar with the female vamps in it. When I declined, she stared at me, and the next thing I knew I was in the parking lot, with three of the calendars, which I'd apparently paid for, since I had a receipt which had a little note scribbled on it saying, 'thank you for your patronage. Enjoy the dazzling beauty that January has to offer'. I never did remember what happened_.”

Eric tossed the report back on his desk and smiled at Pam, who crossed her arms and shook her head.

“That's absolute nonsense.”

“Weren't you Miss January, Pam?”

“I wasn't cheating.”

“Glamoring? Alcohol and kinky incentives? Threats of violence, perhaps even death? Interception and destruction of my stock? I disagree.”

“But Bill dancing! The close proximity of those moobs to my beautiful, flawless skin. You can be a ruthless bastard.”

“Don't fuck with me again, Pam. You know I will always catch you. Next time he will go down to his underpants.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Don't force my hand into such dire actions, and there will be no need for you to worry about getting up close and personal with Bill's smalls.”

Pam shook her head a little.

“It was awful. I need to shower. I'm going home.”

“Fine.”

“I can't believe you had Bill lapdance for me.”

“Get over it,” Eric said. “He hardly got naked, and you didn't even have to touch him, let alone taste those moobs. You should be glad you got off so lightly.”

Pam turned at the door.

“It was truly frightening. I don't think I ever... It was just horrific.”

“It was,” Eric agreed. “Let's never use Bill's man breasts against each other ever again. The stakes are just too high, and the outcome is simply too tragic for everyone. And let's never speak of what happened here this evening. It's just too... weird.”

Pam nodded, and went home to scrub herself clean from the horrendous, nightmarish thoughts of Bill's hairy man boobs.


	20. Knowing Me, Knowing You, A-ha.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the beginning of Dead and Gone

Eric was sitting with his feet up on his desk, flicking through the latest copy of _Fang_ magazine. He was just shaking his head at an advertisement for stake-proof vests, when Pam burst in.

“Look what I found!” She trotted over and waved a notebook under his nose. “Check this out. I was going over that box of stuff we collected from the witches. I seemed to remember there being some quite pleasantly scented incense sticks in there, and the staffroom stinks like ass. Anyway, I came across Hallow's spell book when I was rooting through the box.”

“Yes, yes,” Eric said dismissively, tossing his magazine aside. “We went over that a number of times, and it revealed nothing truly useful. Apart from that spell you found for giving people wind.”

“Oh yes, that is very funny, isn't it? I do enjoy that one.”

“You shouldn't be using that magic, Pam.”

“Whatever. The point is, I just discovered a page we never even noticed before. The paper is so old and dog-eared, and some of them were stuck together. Lord only knows what with, perhaps eye of newt or something. Eew.”

Eric looked up, suddenly much more interested.

“And?”

Pam held the open book out to him, and he took it from her. The writing was small and scrawly, and it took him a while to decipher it. 

The page was titled ' _Deleo Memoria_ ', which Eric translated roughly as _Memory Eraser._ The recipe and instructions were there, along with some other random phrases in Latin, probably the actual spell itself. Written in a different hand, perhaps Hallow's, at the side, it read _'Ideal revenge spell or memory wiper. Amnesia. Long term. Can be used as a defense mechanism by being carried by a living vessel and released upon the victim if vessel is killed. Added bonus being that victim will be drawn to their heart's desire without knowing it. Subtle yet devastating. Can only be broken through death of spell caster. Mwhuahahaha! Devious. Love it!_ '

Eric slowly lowered the book and stared at his desk, his brow creased in deep thought.

“So,” Pam said, finally. “What do you think?” 

_Heart's desire?_ Finally, he knew for sure why he had been wandering down Sookie's road. He looked up at Pam, who was smirking at him.

“I think it is the most useless spell ever,” he said nonchalantly. “That is not revenge. Revenge is slaughtering someone's whole family. Revenge is bringing your enemy to it's knees and making them beg for your mercy until they lose their voice and you break them completely, body and soul. Revenge is overpowering and destroying everything that they hold dear, making them witness your actions, and then basking in the warm glow of their helpless devastation.”

Pam cocked an eyebrow.

“I'm glad I'm on your side. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Hallow was nothing but a little girl with a crush and a cheap spell book who had ideas above her station.”

“It could have been bad for you, though. You could have been trapped like that forever.”

Eric tossed the book aside.

“Subtle yet devastating? How was that supposed to be devastating?”

“It happened to work out for you. It could've been worse.”

Eric's mind flashed on himself and Sookie in the kitchen of her home, Sookie perched against the table, her legs wrapping around him, her hand tracing his hip, undoing his jeans, her warm, soft fingers slipping beneath the material, wrapping around his-

He shook himself out of it.

“Yes. It could indeed have been much worse.”

Pam picked up the book again and found the page.

“You are right though, what is so devastating about being drawn to your heart's desire?”

Eric clammed up, and turned to his computer, firing it up.

“Have you got those reports done, Pam?”

“I mean, wouldn't that be where you wanted to go, if you lost your memory? It's not like Sookie had forgotten _you_ , you just couldn't remember _her._ ”

“And the chihuahua,” he continued. “You need to sort that as well.”

“You reacquainted yourself with her quite quickly, as I recall. So you were a bit forgetful. That's no big deal, really, and hardly a terrible act of revenge. You were a bit like a toddler, a big vampire toddler.”

“Pam-”

“Where's the vengeance in that? It would be a better spell if you forgot who it was you wanted, to totally ignore them, or have them ignore you. Being drawn to them, well, that's-”

“Yes, Pam. Thank you very much for your wonderful insight which I never asked for. Shouldn't you be doing some work now?”

Pam sighed and rolled her eyes.

“There's a spell in here to make your hair grow. Do you think it will work on me? I always wanted longer hair.”

“Don't do any of those spells.”

“Just the hair one.”

“No.”

Pam continued flicking through the notebook, then stopped abruptly, looking at Eric strangely.

“Did you say chihuahua?”

“Yes, I thought I told you already. Felipe wants all the sheriffs of his kingdom to send him a chihuahua. The sheriff who submits the dog which is most pleasing to the king will be rewarded.” Eric began tapping away, replying to his emails. “So pick out a good one. I was thinking something very small yet nicely proportioned with some sort of outfit. Go for something different. Let's stand out from the others. Closing date is this weekend. I trust you to make the appropriate choice and necessary arrangements.”

“Chihuahua contests,” Pam scoffed, flicking through the book again. “Like we don't have anything better to do than pander to his petty demands. Whatever next? When is someone going to overthrow him? Do we even know what the prize is?”

“No.”

“It's probably book tokens, something like that. Perhaps there's some sort of spell in here to make your chihuahua extra adorable.”

“Will you put that book down now, Pam.”

“How about this one? _The body swap_. You could exchange bodies with the chihuahua, and be suitably cute and obedient and win the prize.”

“What, and then there would be a chihuahua in my body?”

“Now that would be interesting. It looks like a surprisingly simple process.”

“Let's not.”

“I can't quite read this bit. I think it says _Ut corpus contingat commercium._ ”

There was a flash, then a popping sound, and Pam and Eric both looked at each other. The only problem was, they were looking at each other out of the other's eyes.

“Pam?” Eric put his hand over his mouth, which was actually Pam's mouth, in shock at the noise which came out of it. He looked down at his arms, spreading Pam's fingers. “What the fuck?”

“Shit.” Pam looked at herself too, now in the body of Eric. “Shit!”

“We swapped bodies.”

“Shit.”

“Find the spell. Turn us back!”

“You've got the book! It's in your, I mean, _my_ hand.”

Eric fumbled with the notebook, searching frantically through the pages.

“Why are your nails so long, Pam? It's fucking annoying. Completely impractical.”

“They grow back every fucking day, what do you want me to do?”

“Here,” Eric said as he found the page. “It says... blah, blah-blah, blahblahblah. Spell is easily cast by simply blah blah. There's loads of it. Pam why did you not read all this before opening your big mouth?”

“It was a mistake,” Pam said, gritting her teeth, before getting up from the chair and stepping forward to read over Eric's smaller Pam shoulder. “I didn't know reading that short sentence was going to do it, did I? I'm not happy about it either. This is just too weird. Get to the bit about breaking the spell.”

“I'm trying,” Eric moaned in Pam's voice. He rolled his eyes and tutted, Pam style. “Here. Spell is broken only when the two vessels-,” he gestured with a perfectly manicured finger, “ _I think that's us_ \- fully appreciate and understand what it is to be the other. Oh great.”

“What? We know each other very well. This will be easy.”

“These things are never that simple, Pam.”

“Come on, you know everything about me. You know what I'm like, you appreciate what it's like to be me, don't you? Eric. _Eric_.”

“What?”

“You're looking at my breasts.”

He prodded himself, before squeezing the cups of the tight corset he was wearing, and shook his head in confusion.

“I have breasts.”

“Don't you dare go there.”

“It feels strange.”

Pam clicked her fingers in his face, then looked at them oddly when she couldn't make them work. 

“Your fingers are huge, I can't control them properly. And I feel like I'm standing on stilts.”

“These shoes hurt,” Eric said, while squeezing his boobs together with his upper arms, increasing the size of his cleavage. “Why don't you wear flat ones?”

“Stop that! I do wear flat shoes! At work I always wear heels though, it's part of the outfit! See, already you are demonstrating your lack of knowledge about what it is to be me!”

“Ugh.” Eric rolled his/Pam's head on his/her neck. “I can't believe this. We simply don't have the time to deal with it right now. You need to procure a prize-winning chihuahua and I need to meet with Victor in half an hour.”

“But... are you going to do that or am I?”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Oh this really is just great.” Eric tottered on Pam's heels over to his chair and flopped down into it. He kicked off the shoes and put his feet up on the desk, misjudging the distance at first, before sliding his chair forward and getting it right.

“I can see my underwear,” Pam said cocking a hip, making Eric's body look suddenly rather more feminine. “Could you cross my legs please.”

Eric purposely uncrossed his ankles, parting his legs, and hitched up his filmy black skirt, giving Pam an even better view of her knickers.

“You will have to meet with Victor, and I will also be present. Someone else will have to procure the dog.”

“Bill can do it. He's the procurer.”

“Absolutely not. His procuring days are over. Plus I want to win, and I don't trust him to pick out a good one. Also, given his history in that area he might take his assignment too far and have sex with it.”

Pam was still looking up her skirt, distracted.

“It is very odd seeing myself from that angle. Yet, strangely, I want to touch myself.”

“Go and check on the bar, then bring me the laminated and bound copies of those reports for Victor.”

“Shouldn't you be doing that?” Pam smirked, putting her hands in Eric's jean pockets. She frowned and looked down. “I almost forgot how big that was.”

“Please don't say you're getting me aroused by looking up your own skirt. You're a sick puppy, Pam.”

“You were the one touching my breasts just now, looking like you wanted to spend some quality time alone with them. Don't even try to deny it.” 

“Go get the reports and do your rounds. And stop touching me.”

“I can't do the running about, I'm _you_. Won't it seem strange? Me, _Eric_ , racing around for you, _Pam_?”

Eric groaned, then stood.

“Fine. I will go out there and pretend to be you. It can't be that hard. All you ever seem to do is insult people and roll your eyes.”

“See, again, you are demonstrating your lack of knowledge about me, your own sweet child.” Pam flicked Eric's hair back and pouted. “This spell is truly an eye-opener.”

Eric stopped in front of Pam on his way out, and looked up at her. 

“My my, I am gorgeous aren't I?”

“Not as hot as me,” Pam said, smirking Eric style.

“I'll be back shortly. While I'm gone, try to figure a way to get us out of this mess. Do not do anything inappropriate with my body, do you hear me, Pam?”

“Like what?”

“I know how your dirty, devious mind works. This I do know about you.”

“You need to put shoes on.” She went over to the desk and retrieved the heels.

“I don't want to wear those.”

“You can't wear flat shoes with a dress like that. People will look at me strangely.”

Eric smirked, went over to his closet, and slipped on his flip-flops. They were huge for Pam's feet, but much more comfortable.

“That's better.”

“You'll trip! They look stupid.”

“Whatever. I'm Pam Ravenscroft, I don't give a flying fuck. Anyone looks at me and disrespects my oversized flip-flop fashion decisions, I take them out.” He punched the air, knowing that a roundhouse kick would result in a loss of flip-flop. “Bam! Feel my pain, bitches!”

“But-”

Eric readjusted his underwear and strode out of the door whistling, flip-flopping awkwardly down the corridor.

“Take it easy, sheriff.”

Eric wandered around the bar, glowering at the fang bangers, flashing some fang here and there. Felicia was on duty behind the bar, and Clancy at the door. The rest of the human staff did their running around as usual. No one noticed that he was Eric trapped in the body of Pam. He considered going over and teasing Clancy, perhaps pinching his bottom and pretending Pam fancied him, but that would involve flirting with and touching Clancy, which would just be awful.

Instead, he went into the accountant's office, retrieved the reports, and located Pam's purse. He rummaged around, found her lipstick, and popped open her compact. He reapplied his lipstick, purposefully exaggerating her lips, putting way too much on. Then he went to town with the eyebrow pencil, drawing on some large sausage eyebrows. He stared at Pam's clown face in the small mirror, and smiled.

Next, he ruffled Pam's perfectly coiffured hair, backcombing it with his fingers, until it resembled an untamed, thorny bush. Oddly enough, in this moment, he wished Sookie was around to witness this randomness. She'd find it hilarious, and tease him mercilessly. Perhaps now things were settling down politically, he'd visit her. Not as Pam, though. That could cause all kinds of complications.

After finishing up his makeover and having a good old chuckle to himself, he returned the cosmetics to the purse, stowed it back in Pam's locker, and grabbed the reports. Then he flip-flopped his way to his office.

“Knock knock, Eric,” Eric said, as he entered the room. “Check me out, bitch.”

Victor was already in there, apparently having arrived through the back entrance while he was scoping out the bar. Eric looked at himself behind the desk, a shocked, disgruntled look on his face. Victor had turned around in his chair and was also looking up at him, staring at Pam's lips.

“Hello, Pam,” Victor said, smiling in that incredibly disarming and over-polite way he always did. “You look quite... _enchanting_ this evening.”

“Good evening, Victor.” Eric stared at Pam, who was cocking an eyebrow at him and giving him some serious stink eye. “Is there a problem, Eric?”

“No,” Pam said in Eric's deep bass-tone. She put her feet up on the desk, revealing that she'd anticipated his juvenile prank. She'd squeezed his huge feet into her small, black stiletto heels. She tapped a foot, and kept her face completely serious. “Nothing at all. You were saying, Victor?”

“Ah, yes.” He finally pulled his gaze away from Pam's bright pink fishlips, and turned around in his seat, only to be confronted with Eric's heels. “Ah... well, what was I saying?”

“Something about the king having a meeting with J-Lo next week, discussing the possibility of a private show with some specially invited guests?” 

“That's right, yes. J-Lo.”

Eric closed the door behind himself and went and stood behind the desk. He looked down at the heels and glared at Pam, who just smirked back at him. Damn, his smirk was annoying. And sexy as hell.

“Are you... alright, Pam?” Victor asked.

“Oh yes, I am just wonderful, thank you.”

“You were saying,” Pam said, flicking the shoe on Eric's toes.

“The king is hoping to hire J-Lo for a little party he's having. Felipe and I were discussing the benefits of having your telepath visit Las Vegas, to be present at the meeting. The king wants to be sure he is able to trust Ms. Lopez.”

“What?” Eric said, Pam's voice screeching. He put his hand over his mouth and looked shifty-eyed. “I mean, J-Lo? I thought perhaps Ricky Martin would be more appropriate for a small get together.”

Victor looked up at Pam briefly before turning his attention back to the sheriff.

“Felipe was very impressed with Miss Stackhouse, and would like to use her talents for the benefit of the whole kingdom.”

“To meet with J-Lo?” Eric scoffed in Pam's voice. “Important business indeed.”

“Eric,” Victor said quietly, leaning forward. “Perhaps we could continue this discussion in private?”

Pam and Eric exchanged a glance.

“I will continue with this meeting alone, Pam. You need to procure a chihuahua.”

“Oh!” Victor said, smiling. “You haven't entered your area chihuahua yet? Well, you must! Though I have to say the standard so far has been set very high. Felipe has been taking photographs and emailing me pictures of the early entrants. Very impressive entry from area two Nevada.”

Eric glared at Pam, and she simply nodded. Satisfied that Pam would act appropriately, and advise him of what was discussed later on, but completely clueless about where to obtain a tiny chihuahua, he left.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Some time later, Eric burst through his office door, carrying a small dog.

“What happened?” he said, thrusting the dog at Pam before collapsing on the sofa.

“Oh Eric, we'll never win with this.” She curled Eric's long fingers around the chihuahua's little, shivering body, and looked into it's weepy eyes. “It's all timid and it's ears are too floppy. Why did you get a white one? You should've got a nice tawny-colored one.”

“I thought you could dye it. It was all they had.”

Pam sighed and pulled it further away from her face when it tried to lick her nose.

“It will need a lot of work.”

“What happened with Victor, Pam?”

“Did you go out like that, with my hair all fucked up and lipstick all over my face? No wonder they gave you the runt.”

“Pam!”

“I put him off with the Sookie thing, for a while at least. I fed him some bullshit about J-Lo miming to all her songs, and urged him to ask the king to reconsider Ricky Martin. Victor is more of a fan, so I think he was going to try to convince Felipe. Also, Ricky is a Were beaver, so we could make up some crap about him being too difficult for Sookie to read.”

Eric relaxed further back into the sofa, his shoulders slumping slightly in relief.

“What else?”

“Quinn is sniffing around, and wanted permission to enter the area so he could speak to Sookie.”

“Oh really?” Eric cocked an eyebrow. “What a complete idiot.”

“I know, that's what I said. He was taking my negative reaction back to Felipe. Apparently the king is quite taken with the tiger. Felipe rides him around his casino like a little pony. Victor was showing me, he demonstrated with the chair.”

Eric smirked at the wonderful image he had in his mind. His smile fell when he imagined Sookie being forced into Felipe's employment. If he rode Quinn around, what the hell would he do with Sookie? He knew he had to act fast, before the king made more demands.

“We need to get back into our own bodies, Pam. Your underwear is very constrictive. Having breasts is not as much fun as I had anticipated. I'm too short, as well. I want my own body back.”

“Me too,” Pam sighed. She petted the tiny chihuahua curled up on Eric's stomach.

“What do we need to do again to break the spell?”

“Prove that we understand what it is to be the other.”

“Fine. I do. You are forced to wear sexy, uncomfortable, over the top Gothic clothes, and dangerously high heels, because that is what is expected of you here at the bar. However, it annoys you that nobody would take you as seriously in your twinsets and loafers. Humans and vampires look at you like you are some kind of walking sex object. They all stare at your breasts and those who do not know you make the mistake of totally underestimating you, because you are blonde and have such an amazing body. While this frustrates you, it also doubles your pleasure when you demonstrate what you are truly capable of.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she pursed Eric's lips in thought.

“Hmm. What happened out there?”

“I got propositioned a number of times, and also got involved in quite a few fist fights. It was good fun, to be honest. You have a mean left hook, Pam, but the nails really do get in the way.”

“I think people were probably staring at you for the wrong reasons,” Pam said, running a finger around Eric's lips. “You made me look like that crazy maenad.”

“You have never looked so gorgeous, Pam. I should do your make-up every day. So what did you learn about being me?”

“Well, I thought I knew it all already, but perhaps it was harder than I expected.”

“What was hard? You weren't getting me aroused by thinking about your underwear again, were you Pam?”

“Oh stop that,” Pam said, waving Eric's hand. “Don't be vile. What I mean is it was more difficult than I thought, being you. Victor is sly, and I had to think about every single thing I said before I spoke, as well as considering what his response might be. It was like playing conversational chess. Completely exhausting.”

They both looked at each other, then down at themselves.

“It's not working,” Eric said. “You need to do better than that.”

“You get horny at everything. I twitched a little, when Victor rode that chair.”

Eric closed his eyes and shook his head.

“No.”

“It's true! That must be quite annoying for you. And also people want things from you all the time. I thought you lumped it all onto me, but the phone never stopped, and there were people knocking on the door all night; Bobby bringing me things to sign, which I couldn't obviously, so I had to tell him my hand was tired, the staff coming in with requests for this and that, some idiot from outside the area checking in, some fang bangers offering themselves to me, the accountant pestering me about spreadsheets and audits and whatnot, and all this after that tiring meeting with Victor. Everyone wants something from you all the time, permission to do something, money, sex, signatures, spankings, hair conditioning advice...”

“What?”

“I had no time at all to curl your hair or dance provocatively with Clancy, like I was planning to.”

“Good. But you already know what it's like to be sheriff. You watch me every day.”

“I didn't realize it was so exhausting.”

“We don't get exhausted, Pam. We're vampires.”

“I am mentally drained.”

She flopped back in the chair, Eric's arms hanging loosely off the sides. The chihuahua stood and turned around a couple of times in a circle, before settling again.

“It's still not working,” Eric said, rubbing Pam's eyes. A fake eyelash dropped off, and Eric flicked it away, disgusted. “Bits drop off you all the time. Pam, don't you let that thing pee on me.”

“We might be stuck like this a while longer.” She picked up the spell book, and flipped through it. “What are you going to do about Felipe? He's beginning to sniff around Sookie.”

Eric thought for a while, before responding.

“At this moment I can do very little to stop him from taking her.”

“But you wouldn't let him, would you?”

“I will do what needs to be done to protect her from him, and keep her here.”

Pam nodded.

“Will you turn her?”

“No,” Eric responded instantly.

“Then what?”

When he didn't respond, she thought about it.

“You will be pledged,” she said, with a smile. “That is why you made me go back for the knife.” She shook her head, Eric's golden locks falling across his face in a sexy way Eric was now fully able to appreciate. “It will mean any requests for her services would have to go through you, and you will be able to protect her more effectively. All supes will think twice about going anywhere near her, let alone harming her. It solves many problems. Also, you want to be closer to her again. You care about her, very much.”

“Yes,” Eric said simply.

“You have been lonely, and you only truly realized the extent of your loneliness after your memories were restored, and you remembered your time with Sookie. You realized that you want to feel again. She resurrected something within you, something which had been dead for a long time.”

Eric closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he was back in his own body.

“Oh, thank you Thor,” Eric said, running his palms over his chest and down his body. He stopped at the chihuahua, picked it up, and placed it on his desk. Pam was doing the same thing, checking herself over.

“Did you put extra padding in my bra?”

“No.” He flung the spell book in her direction, and she caught it. “Burn it. And dress up this dog and ship it off to Vegas.”

Pam stood up, flicked off the flip-flops, and slid back into her heels. She stuffed the book down her bra, before picking up the dog and tucking it under her arm.

“I think he's a winner,” she said, tickling it's chin. “A quick wash and a little knitted sweater and that prize will be ours.”

“Excellent,” Eric said, reacquainting himself with his nipples.

Pam turned at the door. “When will you do it?” 

“Within the next couple of days, when Victor returns.”

She nodded and closed the door on her way out.

Eric opened a drawer in his desk, and took out the ceremonial knife. He twirled the sparkling object between his finger and thumb, and wondered how Sookie would react when she realized they were married.

 _She's going to go completely apeshit_ , Eric smirked. But she'd realize, eventually, that his actions had been for the right reasons. Perhaps she might even enjoy it.

Plus, Sookie Northman had quite a ring to it.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

From: Felipe de Castro

To: All Sheriffs

Subject: Chihuahua Contest Results

  
  


Salutations to my fine and excellent sheriffs!

Thank you all for entering this year's annual tiny dog contest. Those of you who have been with me for some time in Nevada will already be very familiar with this contest, since it has been running since 1956. For those of you whom I have only recently conquered – welcome to the fun!

This year was the year of the chihuahua, and I have to praise you all for the high standards of your entries.

So, without further ado, I give you this year's well deserved winners:

 _First Place:_ Little Pam Pam (Eric Northman, Louisiana) White, smooth-coat. Good temperament, lovely teeth. Sporting intricately knit pink sweater and matching beret. Will dance on command. Enjoys sausages, fine knitwear, and naps.

 _First Place Prize:_ Invitation to intimate Ricky Martin show at King's palace, Las Vegas, all expenses paid.

 _Second Place:_ Tiny Bob (Robert Schwartz, Arkansas) Tricolor, smooth-coat. Feisty. Good proportions and delicate prance. Diamond studded collar adds an air of timeless elegance. Enjoys shopping, soap operas, and ankle biting.

 _Second Place Prize:_ Signed copy of Felipe de Castro's autobiography, _If Only My Salsa Teacher Could See Me Now_ OR a _Cartier Collection Privee_ white gold and diamond watch.

 _Third Place:_ Mr. Sniffles (Nina Nardoni, Nevada) Tan, long-coat. Shiny and well-groomed, with sparkly eyes. Tendency to sneeze often due to his allergy to dust mites. Enjoys belly rubs, peanut butter and trips to the park.

 _Third Place Prize:_ Book tokens.

Thank you to everyone who entered this year's competition, and congratulations to the worthy winners.

  
  


Your King, 

Felipe de Castro.

  
  



	21. You Can't Have Awesome Sex With a Finch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set near the beginning of Dead in the Family

“Tell me, do you floss?” 

Pam flashed a forced, fangy smile at some tourists who were annoying her with the usual stupid questions as she stood at her hostess podium.

“Oh yes. Not in the traditional sense though. Perhaps I could show you my own personal flossing technique, using _your inner_ _thigh_?” 

She waggled her eyebrows and fully exposed her gleaming fangs. The two women gave a shocked gasp before they began laughing excitedly.

_Fucking tourists._

“You can go in now. Enjoy your evening, ladies. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

They hurried in, giggling like school children.

“Who's next? How about you, cupcake?” A short, bald-headed man stepped forward, and Pam waved a hand. “Not you, you dirty breather.” She beckoned a dark-haired beauty forward with her finger.

“Me?” The girl looked around and the bald man stared at her jealously.

“Hm-mm. Step forward. What's your name, pumpkin?”

The woman was tall and slim, with long, dark hair and a confident walk. She was wearing some black, tailored shorts and a jacket, and had the kind of understated, casual chic style that Pam appreciated, outside of work.

“I'm Stacey.”

“Well hello, Stacey. I'm Pam. Is this your first time at Fangtasia?”

“Yes, actually it is. I've heard this is the place to come in Shreveport if you want to have some fun.”

“Oh yes,” Pam said, cocking her head. “We always have lots of fun here.” Pam checked out her tanned legs. “Those are fabulous heels.”

“Thanks.”

“Not many people can pull off gold, but with your skin tone, they look divine. They'd go very well with my new Italian silk bed linens. Perhaps we could throw around some home design ideas later on.”

Pam gave a fangy grin, then frowned and rolled her eyes. Eric was calling her, and he was pulling on her will.

“Gotta go, sweet-cheeks.” Pam gave Stacey another quick eye-fuck, trailing her eyes all the way down her body before raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips in appreciation. “I'll be seeing you later. Let her in,” she said, turning to the human guard at the door.

She gave Stacey a quick wink, then rushed through the bar, being pulled towards Eric's office. She didn't bother knocking, walking straight in.

“What's going on?”

“Victor is seriously beginning to test my patience.” Eric was standing behind his desk, and he looked like he wanted to rip something apart. He slammed his phone down so forcefully that it shattered from the impact. “Close that door.”

Pam did as she was told and then stood in front of Eric's desk.

“What happened?”

Eric growled and beckoned her to follow him. They went and stood in the closet where Eric kept his vampiric outfits. It was full to bursting with spare shirts, leather pants, jeans and jackets. There was a cane or two, and an over the top, furry Viking outfit which Pam had bought him on a whim, but he'd never worn. In public. The enclosed space meant that they were standing together very closely, and with all the crushed velvet and leather, when Eric shut the door, it was a tight squeeze.

“Why are we in here?” Pam said, brushing a tasseled belt off her left shoulder.

“The walls have ears. Victor has spies everywhere, and who knows if he has the whole place bugged. He's really beginning to piss me off. Not only does he hold us hostage in _my own fucking bar_ ,” Eric gritted his teeth and roared in frustration. “Chaining me. Me! All the while Sookie is being fucking tortured by those, those... aaaarrrgh!” He pulled some material from a hanger and ripped up some particularly bad beige, pleated pants. “Fucking fairies!”

“Fucking fairies,” Pam echoed. “Sweet-smelling, tasty, little bitches.”

“Pretending that he doesn't even remember that Felipe swore Sookie protection, the idiotic fuck! No, that's not enough for him. He calls just now to tell me that he is _disappointed_ with last months bar takings. That we are letting the competition get the better of us! I cannot believe the gall of that sick, slimy prick!”

“He needs a good staking.”

“Staking is too fucking good for him, Pam. I think I would like to begin by stretching him slowly by his arms and legs until all his limbs pop off, and then I'd stuff his mauled torso into a vat filled with liquid silver. I would place him on display here at the bar and allow people to throw things at him and slap him about and ridicule him, and so on. Then I would get one of those apple corers and...” Eric sighed and tried to compose himself. “Well, I digress.”

“You've put some thought into this.”

“Yes. Fantasizing about ways to torture Victor has become quite a distraction. I need to re-focus. What is going on with the bar profits? We are still doing the theme nights. The merchandise is selling well. Is he just trying to discredit me?”

“Profit was down slightly last month. It was to be expected, since we were so busy after the takeover. Then of course there was the unpleasantness with the Fae, and we lost Clancy.”

“Yes.”

“There is another thing.”

“What would that be?”

“Look, can we get out of the closet now? You've had your Victor rant. Anyway, I had the whole place checked for bugging devices only the day before yesterday, it came up completely clean.”

Eric opened the door, and there was an uncomfortable moment where they both tried to exit at the same time.

“After you, Pam.” 

They both stepped out and sat down.

“What's the other thing?” Eric asked.

“Vampires are no longer the sole supernatural beings known to humans. Weres are the new supe of choice, it seems. Since they've come out everyone's flocking to that new Were titty bar, _Growlers_. They're stealing our customers.”

Eric closed his eyes and groaned. _How had he even missed this?_

Pam narrowed her eyes at him, and cocked her head. “Are you thinking about Were titties?”

“Of course I'm not. Why would anyone be interested in Were titties?”

Pam shrugged. “Apparently, fur is the new fang. Shifting is uplifting. Dead is dead.”

“I'm sorry, did you just say 'shifting is uplifting'? What the hell?”

“There was an article in this week's _Supe News._ Apparently this is happening all over the place.”

“The fad will soon wear off.” Eric chuckled to himself. “ _Wear_ off. Were off, Pam.”

Pam groaned, and let her head dangle off the back of the chair.

“Seriously. What do we do?”

“The fad _will_ wear off. As you and I are fully aware, Weres are nowhere near as exciting, sexually alluring, talented, or enduring as vampires. Once you've seen someone shift into a mammal a few times, you're left with not much more than a hairy biker with a penchant for naked runs in the forest. And frankly, that's just weird. Unless you're into bestiality then things soon get boring, even with proper shifters like Lassie Merlotte. _I_ can fucking fly.”

“Yes, that's true,” Pam nodded. “Although Merlotte can fly, too. Sookie said she once caught him shifting into the form of a purple finch during her lunch break.”

“A purple finch? That is so lame. Who gives a shit about a finch? You can't have the most awesome sex of your life with a finch. You can't fantasize about a hot, naked finch. A finch can't wield a 40 inch, double-edged broadsword, mowing down everything in it's path. I have been around for almost a millennia. I'm a fucking Viking, Pam.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“I'm not happy about this. Cheeky bastard Weres stealing our customers.” Eric picked up a paperweight and threw it at the wall. It went right through, leaving a hole, and some unlucky passer-by must have been in the way of it's trajectory, because there was an audible shriek of pain.

“I can see that you're not happy, yes.”

“We should go to _Growlers_. Check out the competition.”

Pam smiled. 

“I knew you were thinking about the Were titties.”

“I wasn't. First thing's first, though. We need to sort out the bar, bring back the customers. Any bright ideas?”

“Actually, yes,” Pam said. “I've already got some design plans for sprucing up the bar, I have some quotes for billboard and local television advertising, and have drawn up a new rota for vamp appearances. Everyone will need to step it up, do a little extra work.”

“Whatever needs to be done. I will not have Weres getting the better of us in my own area.”

“Also I thought we might do a charity auction, or maybe a raffle. It will be good PR. Proceeds to go to the children's ward at the local hospital, something like that.”

Eric nodded.

“What are we auctioning?”

“Oh I don't know, some signed t-shirts, pictures.” She shrugged. “Some time alone with a few of the vamps. How about a date with you?”

“I'm not so sure about that, Pam.”

“It's for charity. Think of the tiny sick humans.”

“Hmm.”

“Well just a kiss, then. I'm sure you'll still bring in the big bucks. I'll organize it, you just turn up. How's that?”

“Whatever,” Eric said with a sigh.

Pam marched out of the office with added purpose in her step. 

Eric took his little voodoo doll of Victor out of his desk drawer and poked a pin in it's eye, repeatedly, before squishing it's head beneath his fist.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

The following week, Eric was sitting in his office, squeezing his Victor voodoo doll in a vise attached to his desk, when he stopped abruptly. He felt a warm glow inside, and he knew of only one thing that could make him react like that. His beloved was near. He smiled, and quickly shoved the vise and doll in a drawer. He closed his eyes and tried to estimate her distance, feel her emotions, hear her steps. Soon enough, he heard her chatting with Pam, and then there was a knock on the door.

“Well personally I always have a panty-less day, usually Thursdays,” Pam was saying, as she opened the door. “Eric, I was just telling Sookie about that time you accidentally flashed those nuns. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

They locked eyes, and Sookie's face lit up like he hadn't seen in a while. She was eager to see him. Her emotions were not entirely stable, yet there was something extra tonight, something playful. Hopeful. Her smile was becoming more like her own again.

“Hey,” she said simply.

“I'll leave you to it,” Pam said with unusual tact, closing the door behind her.

Sookie was wearing tight, blue jeans with some cute, flat, red pumps with bows, and a pretty, cream, silk blouse. Her hair was curled into thick, soft waves that Eric wanted to get his fingers tangled in.

He raised an eyebrow and beckoned her with two fingers.

“Come here, my lover.”

She threw her purse on the sofa, and positively flung herself at him, curling up in his lap, burying her face in his neck beneath his long hair. He felt her breathe in his scent, and he did the same with hers. His shoulders relaxed, and the usually hard features of his face softened.

“Are you alright?” he asked. He did a quick scan of her body, checking for any obvious physical problems before re-scanning her emotions. 

“Yeah. I was just... around.”

“I was thinking about you,” he said quietly. “I missed you.”

Sookie sighed as if she was relieved, like he'd spoken some words she'd been longing to hear.

“I didn't know how busy you'd be. Maybe I should've called but, well, I just got in my car and drove, and what do you know, here I am.”

Eric gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face and kissed her lips softly. Sookie let out another sigh as he pulled away.

“You do not have to explain.”

Sookie cupped his cheek in her palm and nuzzled him a little.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

As he stroked her hair, he thought of all that she'd been through. Sookie usually pretended to everyone around her, including him, that she was fine, but he knew the truth, and Sookie knew she was unable to fool him, given their bond. The truth was, although physically she was improving every day, she was still very much traumatized by her kidnapping and torture. 

He began to fantasize about tearing the heads off those fucking fairies for the thousandth time. That led on to thoughts about torturing Victor again.

Sookie pulled away from him a little, sensing his anger welling.

“What're you thinking about?” she said, with some concern.

“Nothing much.”

Eric wasn't the only one who had anger issues when it came to Victor. Sookie had almost shocked him when she'd declared that Victor needed to be killed.

And, oh, _he would be_.

“Pam said you were having a charity event tonight.”

“Yes,” Eric said. “She has even donated her favorite pumps to the cause.”

“Really? Well, that's just great! I hope they go for a good price. The bar's packed, don't you want to go check it out?”

“Not particularly. I'd much rather be in here with you.”

Sookie smiled and kissed his cheek. She let out a little contented purr against his skin, and rubbed her face against his. Then she seemed to gather herself, as if she were realizing how needy she must have appeared, turning up like this and fawning all over him. She sat up straighter on his knee.

“So tell me about the time you flashed those nuns.” She grinned cheekily, and the sight of it made Eric grin right back.

“I was completely innocent,” he said, stroking her lower back. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“It was. They walked in on me while I was dressing. Pam and I took shelter in their nunnery, and they took advantage of me; a mysterious, tall, handsome stranger. They were sneaky, dirty nuns, and they wanted an eyeful of me in my naked glory. Just like you did, that time.”

“I did not!” Sookie gave him a playful slap to the chest, and flinched at the contact.

“Your wrists,” Eric said, taking her hand.

“Better,” she said, not entirely convincingly. “Much better.”

It had torn Eric up inside to imagine what she'd gone through. The fact that she had recovered so well was a testament to her strength and determined personality. He had seen grown men break down, give up, and never recover from lesser injuries and traumas. But his Sookie was a true warrior. She would not be defeated so easily.

The pride swelled in his chest. She would recover fully, in time.

“Can I look?” Eric asked quietly. “I want to see how you're healing.”

He ran his palm up her thigh, heading for the waist of her jeans, but she put her hand on top of his and curled her fingers around, bringing their linked hands to her chest.

“Not right now. The scars aren't so bad as they were. I'm healing up real good.”

“Some blood, then. Will you feed from me?”

She shook her head.

“Maybe you could just kiss me, for a little while?”

Eric relaxed his frown, brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over it.

“Mm. You want the kissy medicine. I think I could manage that.”

Sookie relaxed against his body, as he took her into his embrace. He began with a bit of gentle lip action. As always, Sookie's lips were soft cushions of loveliness, and he couldn't get enough of them. He took his time, slowly building the momentum of their kiss. He read her every move, every push forward, every little moan that escaped her lips, every stroke of her fingers against his skin. He multi-tasked with his hands, burying his fingers in her hair, massaging gently, running his hand lightly up and down her spine, stroking her arm, pulling her more closely to his body. He wrapped her in a blanket of comfort and bliss, and relished every moment.

They were at it for some time.

“Eric.”

Sookie's voice was ragged as she finally pulled away, her breathing heavy. She closed her eyes as he trailed his lips up and down her neck.

“Hmm?”

“I'm feeling much better, you know?”

“Yes,” he responded, whispering against her warm skin. “I can tell.” He swept her hair back, exposing her neck. His tongue darted inside her ear, and her body jerked in response.

“Oh. That's... _oh_. Well, maybe when you're done here, we could go back to your house.”

Eric pulled away and raised an eyebrow.

“Give me ten seconds.”

He quickly set about shutting down his computer, grabbed his keys, stood with her still in his arms, and slipped on his boots. Sookie reached down to retrieve her purse from the sofa, then he quickly stepped towards the door.

“Open it for me, will you, lover?”

“Don't you have stuff to do here?”

“Nothing I can't do at home, later.”

Sookie smiled and turned the doorknob. Thalia was standing behind the door, just about to knock.

“Oh.”

“Yes?” Eric said impatiently.

“Pam told me to come and get you. Your lot is coming up.”

“What?”

“The raffle, sheriff.”

Eric groaned, and Thalia scurried off, mumbling angrily to herself as she often did. Eric carried on down the corridor, heading for the back entrance.

“Hey, shouldn't we go in there?” Sookie asked, looking back towards the bar.

“No. We have other, much more important matters to attend to.”

He was going to pull out all the stops this evening, he'd decided. Sookie seemed much improved, and tonight was definitely going to be the night that she got her orgasm mojo back.

“But it's for charity.”

“I'm sure we will have raised a lot of money already.”

“I'd like to see.”

“Do you want someone pawing all over me? Do you really want to see me forced into kissing some random old lady?”

“Come on. It'll be fun.”

Eric stopped, looked down at the face of his lover, and caved. Reluctantly, he set her down, and they walked out into the main bar area. The winners of Pam's favorite pumps were just leaving their table, so they took that one, and Eric pulled out a chair for Sookie to sit down. There was much ' _ooh-ing_ ' and ' _aah-ing_ ' at the sight of him, and a buzz seemed to be going around the room.

“Ah, there you are,” Pam said, just as one of the human waitresses wiped the table. A fresh napkin and a ginger ale was placed in front of Sookie. “You're up next.”

“I don't remember agreeing to this,” Eric said, glaring down at his child.

“You did, you said 'whatever'. The winner gets a date with you this evening.”

“That's not possible, Pam. I've already made plans.”

“It won't take long, just a quick drink.” She flashed a smile at Sookie. “There doesn't have to be sex involved.”

“Pam...”

“You should do it,” Sookie encouraged. “It's for a good cause, right? That lady over there in the blue, she's already bought a hundred tickets and she's thinking about getting more. And that guy with the beard, he's thinking about remortgaging his house to raise some extra funds.”

“Eric doesn't do beards,” Pam said, smirking. She turned back to Eric. “Oh, Maxwell Lee wanted a quick word with you about having some time off. He lost a couple of fingers last night.”

“In a fight?” Sookie asked.

“No. To my chihuahua.”

Sookie looked confused.

“Huh? You got a dog?”

“No, she didn't,” Eric mumbled. “He is the most accident prone vampire I have ever met. The times he's had to regrow fingers...” He shook his head, before wandering off to find his minion.

“Did you want to buy a ticket, Sookie?” Pam pulled out a book of them, and smiled. “Ten dollars each, how many will you have?”

“Ten dollars? Wow, I think I only got about eighteen on me. I'll just take one, thanks.”

Pam tore off a ticket, handed it to Sookie, pocketed the cash, and moved on to the next table. Sookie sat there, sipping on her drink, trying to block out all the lusty thoughts the people around her were having about Eric. Some of them had made quite elaborate and sexy date plans, and she was beginning to worry about what might actually happen.

Eric finally came back, being dragged by the arm by Pam. He bent down to Sookie on his way past.

“I'm not happy about this, lover,” he whispered. “I'll make sure it doesn't take long. They can just stare at me for a few minutes then we'll go.”

“You've got to give them their money's worth, Eric. Some of these people here have paid a lot of money to have a chance to win a date with you.”

Pam tugged at his sleeve again, and he carried on up to the stage, giving Sookie an almost fearful stare.

“And now on to the grand prize of the evening,” Pam said into the microphone. “The one you've all been waiting for, apart from my lot. A date with the owner of Fangtasia, Eric Northman.”

There was a lot of whooping and screaming, and Thalia wheeled on a tombola drum. Pam proceeded to turn the handle, rotating it.

“Get your tickets ready everyone.”

There was a drum roll. Sookie pulled out her little pink ticket and looked at it. Other people were doing the same thing, awaiting the announcement with baited breath.

“And the winner is...” Pam opened the door to the drum, dipped her hand inside, and rooted around. “It's so exciting,” she said, without any excitement at all. “I can barely contain myself.” She pulled out a ticket. “Pink 618.”

There was a lot of mumbling and rustling as people searched through their tickets.

“It's me!” Sookie shouted. “Right here! I got pink 618!” She waved her ticket in the air, and grinned at Eric, who seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

There was a lot of groaning and shuffling, and some disappointed patrons began to leave immediately.

“Yes? Pink 618?” Pam said, smiling. “Come up here and claim your prize.”

Sookie trotted up onto the stage, and Pam checked her ticket.

“Are you sure that's not 819?” Pam teased. “Did you tamper with your ticket? I'm afraid that I will have to disqualify you if you tampered with it.”

“No,” Sookie said. “Look, you got it upside down.”

Pam turned it round.

“Well, it looks like we have ourselves a winner!” 

Sookie did a happy little dance, and grinned up at Eric excitedly.

“I never win anything! Who would've guessed I'd end up winning a date with you?!”

“I know. Wasn't that a coincidence?” Eric said, with a glance in Pam's direction. He took Sookie's hand and guided her back to the table. A fresh ginger ale and a warm True Blood were already waiting.

“I get a date with you. Do I have to have it now, or can I save it for another time?”

“We're married, Sookie,” Eric said quietly. “Don't you think we're past the dating stage?”

“Pfft.” Sookie sipped on her drink and waved a hand. “Don't even go there, you know what I think of that. Married people date sometimes, anyway, even if we were. Which we aren't. And we never even dated before, so how can we be past that stage? You've got to at least give me one proper date since you tricked me into marrying you.”

Eric made a disgruntled groaning noise.

“See, you just admitted we're married.”

“No I didn't. Nobody gets married by passing an old knife then kissing it.”

“Yes, they do. We do.”

Sookie crossed her arms and straightened her back, and Eric changed the subject.

“I believe we already had date plans tonight, anyway,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That was before I won a prize,” Sookie said, relaxing and smiling again. “So now I want a proper date. Like a blind date. Or a first date.”

Eric was confused, but he figured he'd go along with it, since Sookie was in such good spirits tonight.

“Like the speed dating?”

“Kind of, but slower.”

“Shall we have this wonderful, long, slow date at my house, where we can get comfortable?”

Sookie rolled her eyes at him, and Eric briefly wondered what it was about him and women who rolled their eyes all the time.

“You've got to woo me first. I don't give it up that easy.” Eric stared down at the table, confused, and Sookie stood up. “I'm going to get ready for my date. I'll see you in five.”

Eric became even more confused, since she was already ready, but he enjoyed the view as she made her way to the ladies room. He looked around the bar, and noticed nearly everyone had gone home, after spending all their money on the Fangtasia Charity Auction Event. Some of the staff were sweeping up, and others were wiping down tables. He really had no idea what Sookie was expecting from their date, but he decided he'd do his best to entertain her.

When she finally emerged, she was sporting a coy smile and a fresh coat of lipstick, and Eric followed her every step with eager eyes. He stood up before she reached the table.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Eric said, before bending down to kiss her cheek. He gestured for her to sit down, and held the chair out for her, then sat down himself. “You look very enchanting this evening.”

“Thank you. What was your name again? Ken, wasn't it? Or was it Dixie Normous?”

“No. My name is Mike,” Eric said, sipping on his True Blood.

“Oh yeah? Mike what?” she said, smiling. “Mike Litoris?”

Eric spat blood all over the table in shock and amusement.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his mouth and mopping up with a napkin. “No. Mike Oxbigger.”

Sookie laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair. That made her laugh even harder.

“I don't think that's a real name,” she said finally, dabbing at her eye.

“No, you're right. I'm sorry, I made that up purely for immature entertainment purposes. My real name is Hugh.”

“Hugh, huh?” Sookie said, sipping on her drink.

“Yes. Hugh Jerection.”

Sookie sprayed her drink all over the table and began coughing.

“Are you alright?” Eric asked, handing her a fresh napkin.

“Yes,” Sookie coughed. “Fine, thanks, Hugh.”

“Shall we be ourselves now?” Eric said, as someone came to clean up the mess and bring some water. “Or do you want more rude aliases? I have lots. Mike Litoris was a good one.”

“You like Mike Litoris, huh?”

“Oh yes, very much,” Eric said, with a fangy grin.

“No,” Sookie waved a hand, and sipped on the water. “No more. I'll choke again.”

Eric took a swig from his bottle.

“Well then, what do people do on dates?”

Sookie shrugged. “They go out somewhere, or meet up somewhere, like this, and chat about stuff. Dance. I like to dance, you know that. Flirt, maybe.”

“I can do that.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely got the flirting part covered, honey.”

“You didn't like dating, before.”

Sookie sighed.

“I hated dating. I had some really terrible dates. Even the nice guys have nasty thoughts sometimes, and they think stuff like ' _she really shouldn't have worn that skirt, it makes her butt look huge'_ or _'her lipstick is a slutty color, I'm definitely onto a winner tonight'_. It gets kind of tiring. I pretty much gave up by the time I was twenty.”

“Human males are idiots,” Eric scoffed.

“It's not really their fault, it's just what they think, probably without even realizing it or meaning any harm. Some of them weren't as bad, but it always ended up going wrong at some point. Anyway, are you telling me you've not had thoughts like that about me?”

“Of course not.”

“Hm-mm,” Sookie nodded, before taking a sip of her drink.

“You do not believe me?”

“I believe I don't want to know what you've been thinking. That's the way I like it, remember?”

“Oh yes. You only want me for my quiet brain signature.”

“That's right. That and your sweet hiney.”

The corner of Eric's mouth upturned into his lopsided smile. 

“My what?”

“You heard me.”

Eric had no idea what a hiney was, but he could have a good guess, since Sookie had a particular fixation with a certain part of his anatomy. He'd amused her on a few occasions recently, by performing what she had coined 'the butt dancing'. This mostly involved a naked Eric flexing his glutes while humming a tune, causing Sookie to giggle like a maniac. The show always ended with her sighing and fondling him. She requested it frequently, and it was his new favorite pastime.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking, when you were walking over?” Eric said.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I was thinking how your hair was looking a little darker than usual, and that the waves that you'd curled it into framed your face perfectly. I was noticing how your eyes are sparkling again, and your smile is back. The real one, that gives you dimples in your cheeks and lights up the room.” She turned her face away, shyly, and he leaned forward. “I was thinking how incredibly beautiful and fascinating you are to me, and of how grateful I am that you are here with me tonight. And I was thinking how much I wanted to be alone with you, in bed, showing you just how beautiful and incredible I think you are.”

It took Sookie a moment or two to respond, and she blinked a few times.

“Huh. That's...” She paused and cleared her throat. “Well, now the weather's turned brighter, my hair will soon get lighter again.”

Eric imagined her, lazing in a lawn chair in her yard, wearing sunglasses and a bikini, basking in the sun. The brightness of the image in his mind almost made him squint his eyes and he could have sworn he felt his temperature rise, as if the sun were beating down on his own skin. 

He re-focused his eyes on hers, and smiled.

“Pam dyed my hair pink once. It was horrendous.”

Sookie laughed.

“I wish I could've seen that. Pam's a hoot.”

“She's an absolute menace.”

“That's why we love her, right?” Sookie's eyes narrowed as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Hey, you think she fixed the raffle?”

Eric shrugged.

“Perhaps you were just lucky.”

“Hmm. Hey, did I tell you Jason's got a new girlfriend? She seems good for him. I think he might actually be growing up a little bit.”

Eric shook his head, and he listened intently as she told him about her visit to her brother's house, as well as her visit with Bill, and her intentions to start tanning as soon as possible now that Spring had arrived. Eric requested photographs. They chatted until everyone else had left. Sookie tried to teach Eric her routine to Pat Benetar's _Love is a Battlefield_ , but they didn't get very far because every time she gyrated her hips he got distracted. Finally, Eric turned off all the lights and locked up the bar. He took her home, performed the butt dance to a captivated audience, and showed her some A-one lovemaking.

It was the best date ever.

  
  



	22. Buffing the Broadsword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Dead in the Family

Pam was sitting at Eric's desk, working on the computer, trying to complete yet another totally meaningless waste of time report for Victor. Every so often when writing reports she would sneak in a rude word, for shits and giggles. With Victor's reports, she went a bit further, knowing that he was never going to bother reading them anyway. She selected the words ' _Reports of an increased amount of V dealing during the month of February, the dealers traced to the area of Stoner Hill_ ', and replaced it with ' _Reports of an incocked amount of V fisting during the tits of February, the rimming traced to the area of Boner Bill._ ' She left the rest of the report completely clean, and carried on typing.

She heard a screechy giggle echoing down the corridor, which she knew had been made by her telepathic friend. Eric kicked open the door to his office, and stood there with a grin on his face. He was carrying Sookie over his shoulder, gripping her around the back of the legs. 

He saw Pam and his smile fell.

“What are you doing in here? I was just about to take Sookie on top of my desk before the bar opened.”

“Eric!” Sookie chided him, and Pam heard the distinct noise of his ass being slapped. His eyes widened and he let out a cheeky “ _Oo!_ ”

“I am finishing up a report, the one you told me to complete about V dealing in our area. Hi Sookie.” 

Sookie did the best she could in her upside down position to look around Eric, and waved in Pam's direction. 

“Hi Pam. Hey, that's a really cute jacket. Is it new?”

Pam smoothed her hand over her pinstriped Vivienne Westwood and smiled.

“Oh no, not really. But it's lovely, isn't it? Sort of severe yet romantic, with a punk edge. I only wear it for work, of course.”

“Hm-mm,” Sookie nodded upside down. “Real professional, but still kick-ass.”

“Yes. I agree.”

Eric let out a loud, groaning sigh, indicating his boredom at the topic of conversation.

“This is incredibly interesting, really,” he said, with a slight shake of his head. “But-”

“I have a matching skirt, with a sort of bustle at the back. Very Victorian inspired, but not at all practical for sitting and writing reports, as you can imagine.”

“Sounds great. Eric, let me down now please?”

“No. Out, Pam.”

Pam made a _'well-I-think-my-report- is-much-more-important-than-your-desk-sex-but-I-suppose-I-could-finish-this-later'_ face. She saved her work, naming the document 'Victor Cocking Penis Report 4', and closed down. She gathered some paperwork, got up, and walked past them, grinning at Eric on her way out.

“Bye Sookie.”

“See you, Pam.”

Eric closed the door behind her. He strode over to his desk, swept a load of papers onto the floor with his free hand, and set Sookie down on the edge.

“Now, where were we?”

“Whoah.” Sookie touched her forehead, and closed her eyes. “Head rush.”

Eric tugged her t-shirt over her head, before he gently eased her down onto her back on the surface of his huge desk. 

“What about Pam? What if someone walks in on us?”

Right on cue, some music blasted out from the bar.

“Don't worry about that. Pam knows exactly what I'd do to her if she were to interrupt us.”

He took his time exploring her body with his lips. Sookie relaxed and closed her eyes, wrapping her legs around him. She spread her arms out on the desk, absently grabbing and then sweeping books and pens and other random desk items off the surface and onto the floor. She touched and then picked up a small tin, and looked at it in her hand. It was a tropical fruit-flavored lip balm, and it had a cartoon happy pineapple on it.

“What's-”

Eric took it from her and threw it in the direction of the waste basket.

“Pam's.”

He quickly turned his attention to her breasts, tugging down the cup of her bra. His mouth found her nipple, and she arched her back and screwed up some paper in her hand. She briefly thought to herself _'oops, I hope that wasn't anything important'_.

“Oh God, that feels good.”

After spending some quality time with both of Sookie's breasts, Eric kissed his way up her chest to her collarbone, then laid more delicious kisses on her neck. His cool fingers traced up and down the side of her body, before cupping and squeezing her breast, as he teased her lips with his tongue. He began grinding his sex against hers, and even through the material of their jeans, it was almost enough to send her screaming out.

For some reason Quinn popped into Sookie's head. She realized that she must have made some sort of noise of displeasure at the thought of him, because Eric stopped and pulled back.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You went _'ugh'_.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. Does something displease you, lover?”

“No. I er, I was like _'ugh, that's hot. Do it again'_.”

He stared at her for a moment before letting it go. Sookie focused her attention on Eric and tried to push all thoughts Quinn out of her head. He gave her a very _Eric_ kiss, and as she ran her fingers through his hair, suddenly there was nothing but her vampire on her mind again.

Her arm dropped to the side, and her hand brushed something cold and hard. Its shape and hardness somehow reminded her of something else. A much _smaller_ version of something else. Some horny instinct kicked in, and she gripped whatever it was, and began to caress it. 

After a while she opened her eyes, and she noticed Eric was looking in the direction of her hand while they were kissing. And yes, it was definitely turning him on. He was moaning into her mouth, grinding against her with increased fervor, and his hands were everywhere. Curious as to what it was she was touching so intimately, she pulled her lips away and turned her head to the side.

“Oh!”

It was Wendy, Eric's sword. It was in its leather scabbard, and she had been caressing the large, ornate hilt.

“Don't stop, lover.”

“I didn't realize I was doing that to your sword.”

“Keep going. I think she's almost there.”

Sookie let go and pushed the weapon further away.

“Eww.”

Eric smiled wickedly, straightened up and pulled his shirt off. Sookie sat up on her elbows and unwound her legs from his body, taking a moment to enjoy the visual feast. He always undressed extra slowly, for her benefit, and knew exactly how to work his body out of his clothes in the sexiest way possible. Sookie guessed he could probably teach her stripper-fairy cousin, Claude, a thing or two.

“Why did you stop?” Eric asked, tossing his t-shirt onto a nearby chair. “You both seemed to be enjoying it a moment ago.”

“You gotta stop talking about your sword like it's a person. It's weird.” Sookie watched as he undid his belt, and took off his jeans at a delightfully leisurely pace. She sighed as she drank in the sweet sight of her completely naked Viking honey. “Mmm. Tasty as a big ol' éclair,” she said dreamily, before shaking herself out of it. “What's it doing here, anyway? I thought you kept it at home.”

“She does usually stay at home, yes,” Eric said, pulling off her shoes, then unzipping the fly of her jeans.

“So what's this, 'bring your sword to work' day? Or maybe some carefully orchestrated attempt to get me to have a threesome with you and Wendy?”

She raised an accusatory eyebrow.

“You're talking too much,” Eric said, whipping off her jeans. “Talking is for the snuggle time.” Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue probing in ways that were suddenly setting Sookie afire. Eric trailed his hand down her arm, took her gently by the wrist, and replaced her palm back on Wendy's hilt, moving her hand back and forth on it. Sookie was momentarily distracted, wrapping her fingers around it obligingly.

“Stop that,” she said, pulling away. “We're not having sex with Wendy. It's dangerous.”

“She is sheathed.”

“Whatever. It's just... too weird.”

“I could shave you with her,” he said, with a quick eyebrow waggle.

“Eric!”

“What? I mean your legs. Only your legs. I will be careful.”

“No one shaves their legs with a freakin' sword. I don't even think that's possible.”

“Anything is possible, lover. You just have to open your mind to the myriad of endless pleasurable possibilities awaiting you. You never usually shy away from new bedroom or bathroom, or indeed, any room exploits. In fact, it doesn't even have to be in a room. I know how you enjoy anything which involves the two of us and ends in earth-shattering, orgasmic bliss.” He raised his brow and gave her a mischievous grin. “Do I not usually come up with the sexy moves?”

Sookie shook her head at him. But she had to admit; since she'd got her orgasm mojo back he'd really been showing her a thing or two. Sex with Eric was a revelation of epic proportions, and she simply couldn't get enough of him. She had to give credit where credit was due. 

“Alright, yes,” she sighed. “You are crazy good with the moves. But it's a sword. Shaving me with a sword isn't sexy, it's wrong, and it's got accidental limb-slicing written all over it.”

“I will make sure she doesn't get too frisky.” He leaned down to nuzzle her neck and kissed beneath her ear. “Do you think I would ever do anything to harm my sweet,” _kiss_ , “beautiful,” _kiss_ , “delicious wife?”

“Girlfriend.”

“Why don't we settle on wife-friend, for now?” He smiled at Sookie's pouty face. “You're not jealous of Wendy are you? You know you are far sexier than she.” He grazed her neck with his fangs, and his hand drifted lower, between her thighs.

“No. She's a sword. _Ooh_ , do that again. Why would I be jealous of an old sword?”

Eric smiled. “You forget I can read your emotions?”

Sookie pouted again, before closing her eyes and giving in to the pleasure.

“Maybe, _oh-_ ” Sookie looked down to see what he was doing. All she could see was the slow, circular movement of his fingers working beneath her underwear. Her gaze drifted back up the length of his body, and she couldn't stop herself from licking her lips. Then she fixed her eyes on his, determined not to be distracted. “Maybe Wendy should retire to a museum somewhere.”

“Sookie!” Eric gasped, feigning shock at her comment. “Wendy is not for display purposes only, some precious metal tart to be admired behind a brightly lit glass cabinet. Like a historical weapon whore, displaying her ample wares to passing nerdy perverts. I could not do that to her. She is a fighter, like me. She cannot be tamed.”

“Is Wendy some kind of penis extension?”

Eric looked at her open-mouthed, and Sookie smiled at him.

“You think I require a penis extension?”

“Hell no. But I know you, never satisfied. Your car's the same. It looks like you're trying to compensate for something. I know you're not, obviously.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear you are not insulting my deadliest weapon,” he smirked, before kissing her. 

“I'm your favorite, right?” she spoke against his lips.

“Sookie, are you serious? Wendy really is just my sword. She has served me well, and I've slain countless enemies with her. I have few things left from when I was human, and Gæierlaug, I mean, _Wendy_ , is all that remains as a physical reminder of my time as a Viking warrior.”

Sookie sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “You're still a Viking warrior. A real, authentic Viking warrior. My boyfriend.” 

“Husband,” Eric corrected. “Husband-friend.”

“Whatever.” She shook her head slightly, and wound a length of his mane up in her hand, pulling him in closer. “Do you know just how much that Viking shit turns me on?”

Eric grinned.

“Oh yes. Would you like me to pillage your village, my lover? Your land is just begging to be conquered. Resistance is futile.” He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and nipped at her lobe. “Yield,” he whispered, against her ear. 

“Eric,” she breathed. She gripped him tightly, raking her nails down his back.

“Sookie.”

She searched for his lips desperately. As they kissed deeply, Eric's hand slid lower, dipping beneath her underwear again.

“Yes. I want...”

“What do you want, lover?”

“Eric.” Sookie writhed underneath him, searching for more friction.

“Hmm? Eric? You just want... _Eric_?”

She grabbed his hair in both her fists as he slid a finger inside her, only to withdraw it and circle her nub with a light, lazy pressure. She tugged at his hair before letting go, and he hissed as she trailed a palm down his chest and stomach, seeking out what she wanted.

“This,” she breathed, as her fingers merely ghosted the very tip of him. She slowly caressed the underside of his hardness with a delicate touch that made him close his eyes and groan loudly. “I want this. I want you.” 

She arched her back and looked up at him with the sexiest eyes he'd ever seen, her eyelids heavy with arousal. She took her bottom lip in between her teeth and nipped at it. Eric couldn't resist sweeping his tongue over where she'd bit, even though she hadn't drawn blood. His already massive erection grew even larger.

“Well, as you know, I always give you what you want, Sookie.”

He had her naked in a jiffy, and Sookie didn't even feel her underwear come off. It had taken Eric a while to perfect that trick. He likened his expert clothing removal technique to those entertainers who whipped off tablecloths and left all the dishes and crystal in place. It was one of his many talents, and perhaps one of the most useful.

“Now.”

“You are so impatient.”

“ _Now_ ,” Sookie repeated more firmly. 

With a sexy smirk, he obliged her.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Some days later, Eric was sitting in his office, on the phone to his lover. He slowly ran a fingertip across his desk, and smiled.

“Oh, certainly,” he said. “I'll be glad to pass that very specific message along.”

As he hung up, he shook his head. He had no clue what Sookie was talking about, or what she wanted to speak with him about later. He was hoping that it might be to discuss a new, particularly skimpy, lacy set of lingerie, but experience had taught him that it was probably some sort of trouble, instead. Nothing immediately dangerous, from what he could tell. One thing was for sure, life was never dull with her around, and whatever it was, he would be happy to see his lover. He wondered if he had time to buy her a gift. _Hmm._ _Sexy or practical?_

“Pam!”

It only took her a few seconds to appear.

“What?”

“You need to pick up Sookie at her house at 1:00, and drive her to mine. Do not be late.”

“Why do I have to be the chauffeur?” 

“Just do it, Pam. She needs to speak with me urgently. Oh, and she told me to tell you to not get carried away with anything when you pick her up.”

Pam raised a curious eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“I don't know what she was talking about either, but that's the message, and I am simply relaying it.”

“Cryptic.”

“Hmm.”

“Perhaps she will be naked. I think this could be quite interesting. I will take the chauffeur job.”

Eric looked at her disapprovingly.

“I was not asking you, I was ordering you. Sookie will not be naked, and you need to accept that she will never have sex with you. You also need to remember that she is my wife, and therefore not only are you being incredibly disrespectful, but that she is also, in a round about way, your step-mother.” 

A look of concern spread across Pam's face, and Eric smirked. 

“Whatever,” Pam said, the displeasure still evident. “Victor is here.”

“Oh, he's early for our meeting, is he? Well, show him in. No time like the present. The sooner we have our meeting the sooner he can fuck off home.”

“I would show him in, but I believe he is busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Why don't you come and see for yourself?” Pam said with a smile. “It is truly quite a sight to behold.”

Eric got up and began quietly muttering to himself. Before he could head out the door, Pam put her palm against his chest, stopping him.

“ När ska vi spetsa honom?”  _ When are we going to stake him? _

Eric tensed, and stared down at his child with fierce eyes.

“Snart.”  _ Soon. _

They walked out into the bar. Eric stopped still, almost unable to believe his eyes. Victor was on the dance floor, dancing in a manner that Eric understood to be termed 'bogling'. Two of his minions were with him, egging him on, whooping and hollering. Victor's tie was undone, and some fang banger grabbed the ends and pulled him in closer for a kiss. Then he started booty shaking, Beyonc é style, and mimicked her thumb lick, trailing it seductively down his chest, which was exposed due to the majority of his shirt buttons being undone. The whole scene was rendered stranger given that he was dancing to Simon and Garfunkel's  _ The Sounds of Silence _ .

“Eric!” Victor spotted the sheriff and gestured with his hand. “Come on, join in the fun.”

Eric stared back at him for a few seconds, before walking slowly over to his booth, and sitting down. Pam followed and assumed her standing position beside him.

“Sweet moves, hmm?” Pam said.

“Very energetic.”

“Perhaps we could get him working here as a full time dancer. I think he would look just peachy in a nice sparkly thong.”

Eric looked up at her.

“I really don't need that image in my head. Why is the DJ playing Simon and Garfunkel?”

Pam shrugged.

“Victor requested it.”

Eric shook his head.

“I hate Simon and Garfunkel. You know this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why am I listening to _The Sounds of Silence_ in my bar?”

Pam shrugged again.

“Think of it as exposure therapy. You need to get over your problem with them.”

“Their voices are too ethereal, and the tall one has incredibly strange hair. The small, gnome-like one, he has too.”

“Yes,” Pam nodded. “Well, actually I think they are both balding now.”

“They're not right.” He tapped his forehead. “Their music is like tiny pins in my head.”

“It's not that bad.”

“You know Simon and Garfunkel was used against me once,” Eric said quietly, his lips drawn into a tight line.

Pam nodded again. A few years back, one of his enemies had him locked in a basement for days, _The Sounds of Silence_ playing over and over. There were pictures of Simon and Garfunkel pasted all over the walls. At first it was just weird, and then it was annoying. Ultimately, it had driven him to the brink of his sanity, before Clancy and Long Shadow had shown up and released him. _Bad times._

_How did Victor know?_

Pam disappeared, and the next thing he knew Simon and Garfunkel stopped playing, and another song came on. Victor stopped dancing and began to walk away from the dance floor. A couple of fang bangers tried to urge him to stay, tugging on his sleeves, but he shook them off with a promise that he'd be back soon to show them some more of his hot moves. His minions followed him and sat at a nearby table.

“Oh!” Victor slid into the seat opposite Eric. “I just love to let myself go, express myself through the medium of dance. It's so liberating. Wouldn't you agree?”

Eric remained quiet.

“Why didn't you join me?” Victor said, knocking back a blood that had been placed in front of him. “I hear that you're quite a capable dancer. Not in my league, obviously.”

“I did not want to upstage you,” Eric said tiredly.

“Ha! Upstage me? Is that a challenge? Because if you want to challenge me in a dance-off, it is _sooo_ on, Northman.”

Eric actually took a breath before responding.

“I would much prefer to hold the meeting we were due to have, so that I can get back to running my business.”

“Oh, come Eric, I thought you had fun here at Fangtasia. We had some great times when the king was here. Why so serious?”

Victor pouted before flashing that freaky smile of his that reminded Eric of a psychotic old lady, both evil yet friendly. Like he'd knit you a lovely holiday sweater with a matching scarf and mitten set, and then repeatedly stab you in the back of the head with his knitting needles as soon as your back was turned.

“I am very busy. Did you come all the way from New Orleans simply to dance provocatively in my bar?”

“Yes, I did. After we've had our dance-off, I could bust out some of my rhymes. Would you like a quick sample?”

“Actually no, I-.”

Victor totally ignored him and began with some terrible beat-boxing, before launching into his rap.

“ _Vic is on the mic, so if you can't handle, take a hike, psych. Draining all the bitches, there ain't no hitches, fuck all you witches. I got the moves, I got the rhymes, Madden show you real good times. V to the I to the C, baby. You know how I roll. Word.”_

Victor nodded his head a few times and crossed his arms, and tried to look like a bad-ass gangsta type _._ Eric wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing or shove his fist down Victor's throat and rip out his spine. He could, of course, opt to do both.

“Quite exceptional.”

Victor smiled at Eric's mocking tone.

“Well, you are probably too old and out of touch with the kids on the street to appreciate my sweet rhymes, Viking.”

“Probably, yes.”

“I free-styled that whole performance, you know. I'm like the vampire version of Eminem, or Snoopy Snoopy Dog Dog. Only better.” Eric continued to look disinterested, and Victor began to get agitated. “Everyone says so. The king often calls upon me to rap at his special soirees.”

“Hmm.”

“I can do one of those caterpillar dances. I am very flexible and lithe.”

“Hm-mm.”

“And I know the _Thriller_ dance the whole way through. I'm an extraordinary and very versatile artist. I have won awards. I have certificates, and trophies.”

“Excellent,” Eric said, tiredly. “Shall we begin our meeting now?” He began to shuffle his way out of the booth.

“Eric, you need to calm yo tits.”

He stopped and looked at Victor.

“Excuse me?”

“You seem uptight. Anyone would think you didn't enjoy spending time in my wonderful company. I hope you are not still sore over that little incident with the chains.”

Eric's body tensed up completely, his jaw set, his hands balled up into tight, white fists beneath the table. Victor smiled at him, and he forced himself to relax. He visualized his new go-to calming thought; Sookie sunbathing with kittens.

“Why would I be? I am very busy, though, and gangsta rap is really not my favorite genre. Perhaps we could retire to my office and I will update you on those figures you requested.”

Victor looked around the bar, still smiling. He stretched both arms across the top of the seat.

“The décor here is terrible, so cliché. I would've gone for something much more classy and opulent.”

“Really?”

“Hmm. And your employees are ugly and dress like old ladies.”

“Oh do they?”

“Yes. I have no idea how you even have any customers here at all. It's a miracle.”

“Well, perhaps miracles do happen.” _Perhaps by some miracle a big pointy stick might find its way into your body._

“You need to step it up Eric, or else your rivals might get the better of you.”

Victor gave Eric a challenging stare, and Eric returned it.

“I very much doubt that.”

For a few moments they just stared at each other. Pam suddenly appeared, and her eyes flitted back and forth between them. She stood there, waiting for one of them to strike, preparing herself to rip off Victor's head, if necessary. On the other hand, she thought, a public showdown might not be the best idea.

“Victor, did I hear you say you could do the caterpillar?” she said, breaking the tension.

Victor pulled his gaze away from Eric and smiled up at Pam.

“Yes, indeed.”

“Well, that would be something to see. Perhaps you could indulge me.”

“Of course. If you could put some Bryan Adams on, perhaps _Summer of '69_ , I'd be happy to oblige you on the floor, Pam.”

Pam didn't question his odd track choice, since at least it wasn't Simon and fucking Garfunkel, and simply wandered over to the DJ booth. Victor got up from his seat.

“Are you sure you don't want to have a dance-off?” he said, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“Perhaps another time,” Eric said.

“Can't take the heat,” Victor scoffed. “Ha. Well, get out of my hot, sexy kitchen. Watch and learn.”

Victor strode confidently back onto the dance floor, and the fang bangers clapped excitedly at his return. He whipped off his tie, threaded it in between his legs, and ran it back and forth while licking his lips provocatively. Eric closed his eyes momentarily, in fear that the sight of Victor might burn itself onto his retinas and he might never be able to erase the horrendous scene before him. 

“ _Those were the best days of my life_ ,” he heard Victor singing. “ _Oh yeah-eh_.”

When Eric opened his eyes again, he was on his knees, in the middle of an air guitar solo. Victor's minions were still sitting at their table, cheering, and enjoying the company of some fang bangers.

Victor rolled over onto his front and began doing the caterpillar.

“Whoo-hoo!” He whooped with delight as he went the whole length of the dance floor, his body undulating across the linoleum. He undulated his way right to Eric's booth, and stood up. His shirt was all dirty, but he didn't seem to care.

“Now _that_ is how you dance, Eric.”

“Marvelous.”

“That was a wonderful display, Victor,” Pam said, appearing beside him. “I especially enjoyed the part with the tie.”

Victor nodded proudly, hands on hips.

“I once auditioned for the Bolshoi ballet, you know, many years ago.” He slicked his hair back with his hand. “They didn't appreciate my modern style, and I massacred the director and a quarter of the troupe.” He smiled fondly as if he were recalling a beautiful, distant memory.

“Really?”

“Yes. I was ahead of my time, which was really both a blessing and a curse. I practically invented modern-jazz-fusion. In many ways, I believe I was the grandfather of hip-hop. What is your signature dance style, Eric?”

“What?” Eric hadn't really been listening.

“Never mind. I'll bet it's some old tribal folk shit. You see, I am an innovator.” He held his arms out to the sides and made a sort of wave with them, like a body-popping move. “See that? I call that the 'Victor-y roll'. All the kids will be doing it soon. It will be a sensation.”

Eric and Pam just stared at him, nonplussed.

“Please, don't stop,” Pam droned sarcastically. “Show us some more of your wonderful moves. Perhaps some crumping. I simply can't get enough.”

“I think I'm danced out, for now.” He picked up Eric's bottle of blood and drank it down in big gulps, like the effort of all the dancing had made him thirsty. “My work here is done. You can e-mail me those figures I asked for. Right now, I want to party, and this place of yours is sapping the energy out of me. I need to go to a club with some atmosphere, get some real action.”

Eric raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if you really have to go...”

Victor's minions appeared behind him, and one of them handed him his suit jacket, which he slid on. 

“Good evening Eric.” He nodded at Pam. “Pam.”

Pam gave her best fake grin.

“Cheerio.”

Eric rose from his seat, and he and Pam saw Victor out. Behind Victor's back, Pam mimed a staking move with her hand, jabbing her closed fist at his shoulder. Eric mimed shooting him in the head, with the back of his head exploding from the impact. 

Victor turned suddenly, and they stopped still.

“Do say hello to your little human wife from me, won't you, Eric.”

Eric almost growled and reached out to snap his neck, but managed to hold back and simply smiled, instead.

“Of course.”

Victor turned and began walking again.

Pam mimed stabbing him repeatedly, and made a grimacing face as she simulated twisting Victor's neck, his head popping off in her hands, then squeezing it under her arm and thumping it. Eric smirked at her, and did an impersonation of him doing one of his 'Victor-y rolls'. Pam mouthed  _'let's stake the fucker now,'_ in Swedish, just to be on the safe side, to which Eric responded  _'not yet, it has to look like an accident'_ . Madden turned, and they both stopped abruptly, both assuming over-casual stances, like catalog models.

“Until next time,” Pam said, giving a little wave at the door. 

“Yes. I will see you very soon,” Victor said, walking to his car. “I think I will do another stock audit next week. Be prepared.” Eric slammed the door shut. He closed his eyes and groaned.

“I can't cope with him anymore,” Pam whispered. “The dancing, the creepiness, the demands. He is a constant irritant.”

“Soon,” Eric said, smiling slightly. “Be patient, my sweet, blood-thirsty child.”

Pam huffed, and Eric wandered off in the direction of his office. The truth was he didn't know how much longer he could put up with Victor, either. He would have to spend some extra time planning Madden's demise, making it his number one priority.

Little did Eric know, he would soon have other distractions to handle. 

_Like the family from hell._


	23. Orgasms and Kitchenware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between Dead in the Family and Dead Reckoning

Eric found that being makerless was quite liberating. He thought that the feeling might be compared to removing some tight, restrictive bikini briefs at the end of a long, long, stressful evening. Eric had never compared his maker to some ill-fitting, discarded underpants before, probably out of respect and deference to Appius. But now that he was gone forever, he didn't care. 

Unfortunately for Eric, even in death, Appius was still squeezing his balls. But he was intent on finding a way to remove those briefs and rid himself of them for good. And burn them. And then bury them.

A few days after his maker's final death, he sent word to Appius' nest, informing them of an 'incident'.

“ _It is with deep sadness and regret that I must send you news of my maker's tragic and untimely demise. While visiting me in my sheriffdom here in Shreveport, Appius Livius Ocella and my sweet, young brother, Alexei Romanov, developed a great interest in horticulture, and in particular, tree-felling. The humble, honest work seemed to bring such joy to Alexei, and together he and Appius made quite a team. With every tree felled my brother seemed to improve his health. Indeed, the needless and haphazard massacring of innocents ceased almost altogether._

_Unfortunately, the happiness was soon turned to despair, as I received news that a dreadful, fatal accident had taken place. One beautiful, moonlit evening, the pair were tending to a great Southern Red Oak when the unthinkable happened. Alexei was apparently up in the trees, felling some of the larger branches. He called down to Appius, who was working below, to warn him of the incoming wood. Sadly, that very same day Iron Maiden had released a new album of rarities and B sides, which Appius had excitedly downloaded onto his I-Pod upon rising that evening. Needless to say, he had his headphones in and did not hear his child calling down to him. The wood went straight through my great maker, and with that, he was no more._

_In his guilt and despair, young Alexei took the chainsaw to himself._

_In retrospect, arboriculture might not have been the most practical of pastimes for them to take such an active interest in. I am able take some comfort in the knowledge that Appius met his final death while enjoying the incredible voice of one of his favorite rock legends; the great Bruce Dickinson._

_Yours,_

_Eric Northman.”_

He and Pam had lots of fun thinking up elaborate death scenarios, before they'd finally settled on the tree-felling idea. Eric knew that no one would care that much about the loss anyway, since for a long time everyone had been annoyed and slightly embarrassed by Appius. He couldn't imagine Alexei was incredibly popular, either. 

So now he was maker-less, and there was only one loose end left to tie up in terms of Appius' legacy. As he sat in his favorite booth, googling _'how to get out of vampire marriage contracts'_ , he received a text.

_'Hey. Are you at work? I could use some company. S xxx'._

Eric smiled. Sookie always made sure her text messages were grammatically correct and perfectly spelled. No _'thx'_ or _'c u l8r'_. Eric preferred to use a shortened text vocab, but not in a way that made him seem like a 13 year old girl. 

He reread the message. 'Company' sounded promising, and Eric decided it was obviously a euphemism for sex. Sookie varied the number of kisses at the end of her messages; one was usual, two was suggestive, three was definitely a come on. _Yes,_ he quickly deduced from the few words, _she was horny as hell and she definitely wanted him to screw her brains out._

_'Drive 2 bar, wont b long here. I will give u all the company u need. I will provide company all ovr the house. E'._

Eric smirked and resumed his research.

Pam sidled up to his booth and slid in opposite.

“What is so amusing to you?” she asked.

“Your face.”

She completely ignored his comment and leaned in closer.

“Did you find out about the marriage contract? Does Appius' final death make it void?”

Eric groaned. Pam hadn't stopped bugging him about this since he told her.

“I am working on it.”

“When are you going to tell Sookie?”

“There's no need for me to involve her and worry her unnecessarily,” he snapped. “She doesn't need to know. I told you I will sort it out. Stop going on at me.”

Pam crossed her arms and shook her head at him.

“I think you are wrong. She still has a right to know about all this. You can be so high-handed.”

“What?!” He spread his palms out in front of him and looked at them. “What is it about these wildly high hands I'm supposed to have?”

In his annoyance, he raised his arms above his head and waved them. The new bartender, Jock, confused the gesture for an order, and began warming some blood.

“Look how _amazingly_ high my hands are,” he said sarcastically. “Let's all go on and on about how high-handed Eric is, even though he always gets shit done and has survived a millennia even though he has such _craaaaaazily_ high hands.” He waved them again, jazz-hand style.

“You are being absurd. It means that you surge ahead making decisions on things that affect other people without cons-”

“Yes, Pam,” Eric interrupted. “I know exactly what it means, thank you. Sookie has already explained this to me.” He lowered his arms. “High-handed,” he mumbled to himself quietly. “ _Stupid... English... words... terms... idiot... hands_.”

“Abby says that marriages should be a partnership where honesty is paramount.”

“Oh God, not Abby. She spouts all sorts of other bullshit, as well.”

“You do not take marriage seriously enough. According to Abby, marriage-”

“Wait.” He held up a finger. “Who said I needed marital advice? Abby can go fuck herself, how about that?”

Pam gasped and her eyes widened in shock.

“How could you say such a thing about my dear, sweet Abby?”

“I really don't give a demon's toxic knob about any advice she has to offer. Why are you so attached to her and that stupid advice column, anyway? You fixate on the strangest things.”

“She is very wise,” Pam said. “You could learn a great deal from that woman.” Eric rolled his eyes and shook his head at her. “Oh yes, go on, you can mock me if you want. I suppose you think you're too perfect to require any relationship advice, that you already know everything there is to know. I suppose you give Sookie absolutely everything she needs.”

“Of course I give her everything she needs,” Eric said confidently. “I gave her a marathon oral sex session _and_ a blender, just the night before last. I make sure she wants for nothing.”

Pam smiled at him mockingly.

“A-ha. You are of course assuming that all Sookie requires to be content in her relationship with you is orgasms and kitchenware.”

Eric frowned.

“Not just kitchenware. That would be sexist.”

“Hm-mm.”

One of the human waitresses delivered the fresh blood Jock had prepared, and Eric took a sip.

“I provide her with other things she needs. I give her very sexy underwear.”

Pam sighed and shook her head.

“Precisely.”

“The expensive, tasteful stuff,” Eric said defensively. “Not those PVC crotch-less panties you give to your lovers. I gave her a door once, that's not sexist. Gravel driveways, luggage, these are all very practical and useful gifts.”

“Honestly. Hundreds of years of experience and you are still clueless sometimes. Have you ever considered the possibility that she might have other needs?”

Eric stared at the ceiling in deep thought. Pam waited. And waited some more. While she was waiting she folded a napkin into the shape of a perfectly formed crane. Its wings moved when she pulled at its tail feathers, and while Eric was still thinking, she waved it in front of his face and made a crowing noise.

“Caaw. Caaaaw.”

She was unsatisfied with that sound, thinking that cranes probably didn't make that particular noise. She tried more of a coo, but that didn't seem right either. She experimented with more bird noises. In the end, she was making more of a bizarre whooping noise.

Eric completely ignored her. Jock looked over from behind the bar with some concern.

“You're absolutely right,” Eric said finally. “There is something else that Sookie needs, which I have indeed neglected.”

Pam sat up proudly.

“Oh good. Finally.”

“She could definitely do with a modern home security system. She needs exterior surveillance cameras and indoor motion detectors. I should get on to that.”

“No, I was-”

“I can't believe I never even thought of it before. Perhaps it could be hooked up so that I had video monitors here at the bar. She also needs to keep more stakes, lemon juice and weaponry on hand.”

Pam groaned and screwed up the napkin crane. She held her head and rubbed at her forehead.

“Protection is a need, Pam,” Eric said, irritated. “Especially where she is concerned. You wouldn't believe the shit that wanders about in those fucking woods near her house. She has more enemies than friends and is kidnapped or targeted for assassination on an almost weekly basis. Things are only getting worse. Do you not think that is important?”

“She should not live there.”

“Of course not,” Eric groaned. “But you know how she loves it. She likes the memories, and the family history. She says it smells like Gran's pie.”

“She likes old things,” Pam said, smiling. “She likes you. You're old.”

Eric pouted and took another sip of his blood.

“I'm not that old,” he mumbled. “Well, I am, but I'm still modern. There's only a 964 year age gap between me and Sookie. That's nothing, for some couples.”

“There's no need to get defensive about it. We're her family now. She should be here with us, not living in some old shack with a couple of very dubious fairy characters. You need to move forward, and show some commitment. Although, now with all this contract nonsense...”

Eric closed his eyes and tried to contain his ever-increasing anger.

“I know what I'm doing, Pam.”

“Well, I think you two need to talk more openly,” she said. “You need to tell each other exactly what is going on and how you both feel about one another. If you had a formal meeting I could facilitate and be the arbitrator.”

“Sookie and I don't need some sort of therapy session. We're absolutely fine. And you,” he pointed a finger at her and flashed her an icy stare, “need to butt out.”

She pulled a sour face and looked away, checking her nails.

“I was just trying to help,” she grumbled.

Eric gave her another glare and went back to his phone. Pam finished inspecting her perfect nails and looked around, surveying the bar.

“Shall we play a game or something?”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No. Do some work.”

She sighed and looked around the bar some more, checking out the customers. Where had all the cute fang bangers gone? It seemed like ever since Victor opened his new club, they were getting the dregs. She looked back at her maker.

“Eric.” She got no response. “Eric. Eric. Caaaw. Eric.”

“What?” Eric said through gritted teeth.

“Can I have the night off tomorrow?”

“Why?”

“It's been so quiet here this week. I want to catch up on some things.”

“No.”

“Why are you being so unreasonable and grouchy?”

“I'm not.”

“You are. You're all moody. You snapped at me earlier when I commented on the tightness of your jeans. What's wrong with you?”

Eric groaned and set his phone aside.

“You. You're so demanding and you won't shut up. I just want to be alone. But you are constantly poking and jabbing at me, going on and on about Abby and relationship advice and how I need to do this and that. You don't understand the pressures I'm under! Maybe sometimes you could consider my position for a change!”

Pam was speechless at his outburst, and didn't know how to respond. She became even more concerned when she saw that his eyes were a little bit bloody.

She reached forward with her hand. “Are you-”

“Don't. I'm... I'm just tired. I think I've got something in my eye.”

He quickly got up and made his way to the office, and Pam sat there, mouth agape. _What the fuck was all that about?_

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Back in his office, Eric sat down behind his desk and tried to calm himself. He couldn't believe he'd almost cried just because Pam had offered him marital advice and called him old.

He'd felt cranky and emotional all evening. While driving to Fangtasia, he'd become unnecessarily angry when he'd been stuck behind a slow driving old lady, and made a rude hand gesture at her when he was finally able to overtake her. He regretted such immature behavior. He didn't usually feel so grouchy for no particular reason, and figured it must be connected to Sookie doing her shift at Merlotte's. She was often tense during her work hours, since she had to work harder at keeping her shields up at the bar, and had to put up with all sorts of rude customers.

 _Yes, that had to be the reason for the unusual fluctuating emotions_ , he thought. _That, and the recent stress_. He set about distracting himself with some paperwork, and soon felt back to his regular self. He thought about Sookie, and the prospect of getting her naked, and this made him feel much better.

Not long after, there was a knock at the door. Eric knew exactly who it was, and called for his lover to come in.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door behind herself.

“Well hello,” Eric said seductively, recalling her earlier text message and her blatant request for a hot, rampant pounding. He quickly assessed her clothing; a simple t-shirt and shorts. Easily removed and disposed of. He considered the prospect of swiftly taking her up against the wall here in the office before driving her home for a more serious, prolonged humping.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she went and flopped out on the sofa. Eric frowned.

“You're tired?” he asked tentatively.

“Ugh, yeah. I ache. Work was a nightmare. Some idiots got into a fight over a pool game and they started throwing pitchers of beer at each other. Not only did I slip and fall on my butt when I went over to collect the empties, but I also had to mop it all up. And then they never even tipped! The nerve!”

“That's... unfortunate.”

“Damn straight. I bet I'll have a huge bruise in the morning, size of my fist.”

“Should I check it?” Eric waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I can make it all better.”

“It's alright. The biggest pain in my ass right now is Claude. You know, he goes through milk like I never knew it was possible. I swear he drinks a couple of gallons every day. Do you think it's a fairy thing? Do fairies really like milk? He never thinks to buy more, then he grumbles when there's none left. And he eats eggs like they're going out of fashion. He's so inconsiderate. I shouted at him this morning when he left his breakfast plate out, and now I feel bad, because it was actually Dermot's turn to wash up.”

Sometimes their little chit chats were decidedly one-sided. Eric was usually amused by her ranting and tales of parish roadwork and whatnot, and he in turn entertained her with stories from the bar and classic Pam moments. He enjoyed these times when they shared the banalities and absurdities of their lives with one another, especially post-coitally. But as she carried on talking, moving on to the very important subject of Sam's haphazard hair regrowth, he found himself becoming more and more irked. Her voice actually began to grate on him.

“...really wanted to get some gel or something and tidy it up.”

“Sookie, didn't you want to-”

“My feet hurt.” She kicked her sneakers off and wiggled her toes, and gave him her best doe eyes. Eric reluctantly made his way over to the sofa, sat down and took her feet onto his lap. He began rubbing.

“Ooh,” Sookie sighed, closing her eyes. “That feels good.”

“Did you come all this way for a foot rub?”

“No,” Sookie snapped, her eyes open again. “I came to see you.”

“Alright,” Eric shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Can't I just come and spend some time with you? Do I have to want something?”

“No, I just thought-”

“You don't have to do that,” she grumbled, pulling her feet out of his grasp. “If you're not interested in my day then that's fine, I can just go home.”

He looked at her pouty face and wondered if he'd completely misread her message. No, she _definitely_ requested mind-blowing sex. For some totally random reason he'd managed to make her all grouchy, just by rubbing her feet. Maybe she was feeding off _his_ grouchiness? He took her feet back in his big hands and began massaging again.

“I am exceedingly interested in Sam Merlotte's unruly tufts,” he mumbled sarcastically. “Tell me, how much milk did Claude consume today?”

“Maybe four quarts,” Sookie said, relaxing again. “Probably more. I should just buy a cow, so he can get it straight from the source.”

Eric imagined the fairy kneeling beneath the animal, squeezing jets of the creamy liquid directly into his open mouth. He pulled a disgusted face, and Sookie laughed.

“Ew, Eric. I don't mean him drinking direct from the cow. Were you thinking about him, like, putting it in his mouth?”

“Don't. I might regurgitate some blood.”

Sookie smiled and closed her eyes again. Eric took care to tend to every inch of Sookie's tired feet. Outwardly he was playing the role of the caring husband, but internally he was thinking, _What am I doing? I'm supposed to be a vampire sheriff. She should be giving me foot rubs. She never gives me foot rubs. When has she ever considered the tiredness of my feet? Never. Just because I'm a vampire, she thinks I don't suffer such afflictions. I'd love a foot rub sometimes. Did she even ask about my day? No. And she calls Claude inconsiderate..._

Eric accidentally made a disgruntledhuffy noise, and Sookie looked at him, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

“What was that?”

“What?”

“You went 'pfft'.”

“Did I?” _Nice of you to notice. Did you even notice I parted my hair slightly differently today, and I'm wearing new jeans? No. Shut up, Eric. What are you going on about? Why are you behaving like this?_

“Eric, what's going on?”

“Hmm?”

“You're being all weird.”

He tried to refocus and began working on her calves.

“No I'm not, I'm being normal.”

 _Perhaps I just need to get laid,_ Eric thought. _We'll have sex and then everything will be perfectly fine._

Sookie raised an eyebrow but then let it go, and settled back into enjoying her foot massage. After a while, Eric noticed she was looking over at his desk. _Hmm, more table sex?_ He perked up.

“Did you want to...?” He nodded towards the desk.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh, excellent,” he said, going to stand up.

“Not now, I'll tidy it later.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“It's an absolute mess, but it can wait until later. I guess now Bobby's gone there's nobody around to do all your filing, huh? Is Pam too busy? I don't mind helping. Is your system alphabetized?”

Eric nodded slowly. 

“Good.” 

Sookie settled back again and Eric began to apply more pressure. He stopped after a while, just in case he went too far and accidentally molded her feet into the shape of flippers, and began to work on her hands. Sookie seemed to be enjoying her pampering, which only resulted in Eric becoming more resentful and irritated. He decided sex was the way forward in this situation, and would result in them both feeling much more like themselves. He took the opportunity to send some waves of lust through their bond.

“Are you feeling less achy now, my lover?” Eric said, in his best seductive voice.

“Yeah. You'd make a really good masseuse. I can just see you working in a beauty salon. Do you know how to do facials?”

 _Oh yes_ , he thought. _I know all about facials._

“Do you have any other aches I can take care of?”

He took her wrist and brought it to his mouth, kissing softly. He kissed at her palm, then stared into her eyes while bringing each of her fingers in turn to his mouth, licking and nibbling at the tips, before sucking on them.

“Mm. You taste like peaches.”

She looked away and stared at his desk again, scowling disapprovingly at the mess. 

“I ate some peaches earlier.”

“I'd like to bite into your peaches.”

“Well, I ate them all, so...”

“Sookie.”

“... you're out of luck. You don't eat them anyway...”

“Sookie.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop mentally tidying my desk. Why are you resisting my advances?”

“I thought we were just chatting about peaches.”

Eric stared at her while shaking his head very slightly, his brow furrowed.

“I am pushing some major lust waves at you and you are not reacting.”

“Yeah, will you stop with all that? The bond crap freaks me out sometimes.”

Eric became more alarmed.

“You like the lusty probing.”

Sookie closed her eyes and groaned.

“Not all the time and not when I'm all cranky and sleepy and I just want to crawl into my best old flannel nightgown and curl up and pass out.”

“I've been meaning to mention those nightgowns...”

Sookie held a hand up.

“Don't even go there. Eric, there are times when a girl is more than happy to wear some uncomfortable tiny lace cheese-wire thong and a bra that gives you cleavage you could park a bike in.” She paused to shake her head at Eric's fangy grin. “And there are times when a girl just needs the soothing comfort of floor length flannel. Tonight is one of those nights, so put those fangs back in, buddy. You can suck my fingers and bite my peaches all you like, but it ain't happening.”

“But why...?”

“Why what?”

“I thought you... but you're...”

“Look, Eric, I don't know why you thought I was up for some kind of big sex session with you tonight, because I'm not. I had an awful night at work, and I'm cranky and pre-menstrual. I just wanted to come over and spend some time with you. I've been pissed off and emotional all day. I just wanted a hug and for you to listen to me blow off some steam and make me laugh.”

Everything suddenly fell into place for Eric.

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“That's it. Of course. I flipped an old lady on the drive here, and then earlier I got all pissed at Pam and nearly cried. Just now, I was upset at how you didn't notice I'd done my hair a bit differently and how you never give me foot rubs.”

Sookie stared at him.

“You flipped an old lady?”

“Oh God. You're right, the bond is freaky sometimes. I never bonded this deeply with anyone before, so I've never really experienced anything as extreme as this.” He held his head. “I'm hormonal. You're pushing your PMS at me.”

“I am not!”

“I have PMS,” Eric whispered to himself.

“Will you shut up?! You're just feeling it from me, is all. I'm not usually this bad with it.”

“I have PMS,” he repeated desperately, even more quietly. He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “A thousand year old vampire sheriff with PMS.”

“Will you stop saying PMS? God! You're such a selfish idiot sometimes! I'm always feeling your pissed off angry vamp shit. ' _Ooh, Sookie's going to work and getting pawed at by redneck drunks and she's my wife and she shouldn't be working there'_ , and then you're all, _'ooh, that sheriff of area 12 is all up in my face and I want to kick his ass'_. If it's not bubbling anger then it's horndog central! It's so effing annoying!”

Eric looked away.

“There isn't even an area 12,” he muttered.

“Ugh.” Sookie stood up and slipped her sneakers back on. “I'm going to hang out with Pam for a bit. You can tidy your own desk.”

“I will.”

“Well go on then.”

“I'm going to.”

“Fine.”

She slammed the door behind her.

Suddenly alone in his office, Eric felt surprisingly guilty and vulnerable. He decided that he really needed a good fight or something, to reassert his kick-ass vampire masculinity. In fact, now would be a great time for a visit from Victor, so he could take some of his pre-menstrual rage out on him. Instead of opting for violence, he went back to his desk, messed it up even more just because it made him feel better, and got back to work.

At some point, Sookie came back into the office and curled up on the sofa, without a word. She was soon fast asleep.

After a while, Eric glanced over at her. Her eyelashes kept fluttering, and he could see her eyes moving beneath her lids. She was dreaming. The soft sound of her breaths and her tiny movements relaxed him, and for a little while he forgot about Victor Madden and vampire politics and all of his other troubles. He remembered how he used to watch her sleep when he was not himself, holed up with her in her house. He recalled how warm and content he felt lying next to her, when everything else was so distant and unnerving to him.

He never wanted to be parted from her then, and he still felt the same.

Eric's lips tightened into a hard line, and he silently cursed his maker for his stupid, high-handed attempts at match-making.

As if she'd felt his sudden anxiety in her sleep-state, Sookie frowned and let out a whimper. She shifted her position, curling up further into herself. He felt her need to be held, or maybe that was him. Either way, he stood, and went and knelt in front of the sofa. He ran his cheek over her bare arm. She was always so soft, and smelled so good. Rubbing up against her released the scent. 

“We don't do wedges, Sir. Just fries,” Sookie mumbled. Eric stopped with the rubbing and smiled at her. She wrinkled her nose like it was itching, and her eyelids flickered. “Pickles.”

Eric laughed quietly.

“Some cups.”

Eric snorted this time, and Sookie's opened her eyes. She saw him looming over her and frowned sleepily.

“Wha?”

“Cups?”

“Hmm?”

“You just said 'some cups'.”

“No I didn't.”

“You did. You said cups, and before that you said pickles. Were you dreaming about work?”

Sookie pouted and closed her eyes again, and curled up on her side.

“I don't know.”

Eric brushed some hair out of her eyes. 

“You should dream about me,” he whispered. “Much more entertaining.”

“I'm sorry you got PMS,” Sookie mumbled. “I like your hair.”

Eric smiled. He could feel her exhaustion. No wonder she dreamed about work. She was always there, working hard; serving pickles, retrieving cups. With a sigh, he rose to his feet. He switched everything off, picked up her purse, swinging the strap over his shoulder in a way that would undoubtedly be embarrassing were there anyone to witness the occurrence, and gathered her up in his arms. Sookie squirmed a little at first, but was simply too tired to do anything other than let him move her.

As he carried her out to the car, he understood there was indeed more to give Sookie than gifts, protection and orgasms. He also realized that their relationship was more of a partnership than he'd even given them credit for before. 

He still wasn't telling her about the marriage contract, though. _She'd flip her fucking hormonal lid._


	24. Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Dead Reckoning

 

Although he had successfully disposed of Victor Madden and totally gotten away with it with barely a slap on the wrist, Eric was surprisingly dispirited. Not only had he still been unable to find a way out of the marriage to the Queen of Oklahoma, but he and Sookie weren't even speaking to one another. He was miserable, and Pam was bearing the brunt of it.

She decided to take matters into her own hands.

“Ah, Sookie, my fine friend,” Pam said, as she was sitting alone at one of the booths.

Sookie came striding through the bar with purpose. As she drew closer, she pulled some material out of her purse. She stood over Pam, and thrust it at her.

“Here you go.”

“Well good evening to you too,” Pam said, pretending to be slighted by the abrupt greeting. Sookie put a hand on her hip, her other arm still outstretched.

“You asked me to come all the way out here to return this scarf to you, so here it is. Incidentally, although you asked for ' _that lovely scarf you borrowed from me_ ', I never actually borrowed it from you at all. You left it at my house ages ago, and every time you've been round since I reminded you to take it with you, but you kept on saying you'd get it another time.”

Sookie's tone was irritated and accusatory, but Pam retained her air of guiltless nonchalance. 

“Did I? Well, I am sorry about the inconvenience Sookie, but it really was quite urgent. I simply have no other scarf of this color which will go with my new twin set, so it was very important you returned it to me.”

“Sure.”

“It is such a nice, rich bronze. And as you can see,” Pam brushed her hair back, angled her neck and leaned forward, “I have a nasty blemish which I need to cover up discreetly, right here.” She tapped her neck, and Sookie leaned closer. “Look at it.”

“There's nothing there.”

“There is, look.”

“I can't see anything.”

“It's practically covering my whole neck area, look more closely.”

Sookie stepped back and tried to contain her rage.

“Pam, you don't even get freakin' blemishes. You're a vampire, remember?”

Pam sat straight again, and shrugged.

“It could have been a bit of dirt or something, I suppose. Eric has had me sweeping his chimney. It was a punishment. Shall I tell you about what I did?”

Sookie let out a long sigh.

“I kind of don't have the time right now.”

“It's very funny. You'll enjoy it." 

“Maybe another time. It's good to see you, but I need to drive back to Bon Temps. Here's your scarf.”

She held it out, but Pam didn't take it. 

“Will you have a drink with me before you go?”

Sookie let her body go all limp and she groaned.

“Oh Pam, did you bring me all the way out here to get me to talk with Eric? Because I really don't want to.”

“No. I wanted my scarf back. But now you're here...”

“Look, I just finished my shift, and I've got important things to do. I'm sure this fashion emergency you had to cover up some soot on your neck was real urgent, but I don't have time to stick around.”

“What important things?” Pam said brusquely. “What is more important than me?”

“My world doesn't revolve around you, or any other vamps for that matter. As it happens, I'm having guests tonight, and I really need to get home to start preparing, so if you'll excuse me.”

She turned and began her swift exit. As fast as she could turn, Pam was in front of her.

“Tell me, Sookie, is your house guest... _Jeopardy_?”

Pam cocked an accusatory eyebrow, and she and Sookie stared each other down.

“No.”

“Is it... Mr. Cozy Pajamas?”

Sookie tried to side step but Pam countered, blocking her path. Sookie crossed her arms and pouted.

“No. The weather's too warm for cozy pajamas.”

“Well then, is it your good friends... dirty book and a pizza?”

“They're called romance novels, actually.”

“I know. I wrote one once, it was a best-seller. In fact, you might have read it. It was called _Forbidden Fruits_. It was about a bored housewife who has a steamy love affair with her local green grocer.”

“Oh my gosh,” Sookie gasped, open-mouthed in shock. “That is one of my all time favorites! You really wrote _Forbidden Fruits_? You're I. B. Cummings?”

Pam smiled proudly.

“The very same.”

“That scene where they're squeezing the oranges and she starts to cry but pretends she just got juice in her eye. The romance just takes my breath away, every time. Oh, and the sexy scene with the-”

“Celery,” Pam said knowingly, nodding her head.

“Celery.” Sookie shook her head in disbelief. “Wow, I love that book. It's amazing.”

“Thanks, cupcake.”

Sookie smiled, and let out a sigh.

“I suppose I haven't seen you in a while. I could stay for a quick drink. But just you and me, okay?”

Pam smiled and they both took a seat. Pam snapped her fingers, and one of the human waitresses came over and took their order.

“Didn't you write any others?”

“No. They say that everyone has a book in them, and that was mine.”

“Well, it was a great one. So how're things with you? I mean, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“It's just that, with everything that happened...”

“Our victory was magnificent, Sookie,” Pam said, lowering her voice, smiling brightly. “Felipe practically thanked us, in not so many words. We covered our tracks well, but he knew what really happened. We had a small fine to pay for infighting in the area, but the king's verdict was quite clear. Eric was provoked in his own territory, and completely guiltless.”

“Oh. That's just great.”

“It is. I thought you might have contacted us to find out.”

“Well, I've been kinda-”

“Why will you not talk to Eric?” Pam interjected. “He is miserable. I can't cope with it anymore.”

Sookie groaned and threw her head back.

“I knew you just wanted to get me here to interrogate me and convince me to talk to him.”

“Well you're behaving like a couple of spoiled children, and I hate it. I had to pull out my special emergency scarf plan, just to get you here.”

Sookie narrowed her eyes.

“That potted plant you left at my house, and those hoop earrings, as well, are they another-”

Pam waved a hand, stopping her mid-flow.

“Look, the point is, you two need to talk. This has gone on quite long enough. It is very stressful for me, you know. Look.” She pulled up her sleeves and held out her bare forearms. “I'm coming up in big welts.”

Sookie leaned in.

“Pam, there's nothing there. You gotta stop thinking you've got rashes and stuff. You don't even get welts.”

“They are there, just beneath the surface. I can feel them readying themselves for eruption. You two are making me welty!”

“Pam-”

“Like a big welty old pig! All the beautiful silk scarves in the world won't cover this awful stress-related welt outbreak. Well, on your heads it will be. I will be covered in them from head to foot, and I will probably have to go into exile or something while we all get over the shame and embarrassment.”

“You're being absurd.”

“ _I'm_ being absurd? You could just pop your head in, say hello,” Pam said, leaning forward. “Be the better person. You know how stubborn he is. Go punch him in the face, if you want. Just so long as you do something.”

Sookie rolled her eyes.

“Punching him wouldn't solve anything.”

“What is there to solve? Tell me, I will solve it for you. There might not even be a need for it to come to blows.”

Sookie let out a long, heavy sigh, and sipped on the gin and tonic that had been placed in front of her.

“I'm not really comfortable with the person I've become, Pam. Eric called me a hypocrite, and he was right to call me on it. I hatch some elaborate plan to...” she looked around, and lowered her voice. “Well, you know. And then when it boils down to the dirty reality of it I turn away like it's something I'm too worthy to be a part of.”

“It was quite a carnage. But yes, you do need to take responsibility for your part in it.”

“Well, I do. I'd just prefer to be living in a world where I didn't have to.”

Pam shrugged.

“Unfortunately for you, that world doesn't exist. Nobody expects you to be bathing in the blood of your slain enemies, Sookie. Your humanity and compassion is part of what makes you so endearing, whether I understand it or not. Yes, people died and there was a lot of blood and death occurred here that evening. I am still finding bits of Victor and his chums here and there, though we have had the place cleaned from top to bottom twice. But ultimately it was for our benefit and survival and we did what was necessary. You are no stranger to this.”

“I wish I was.”

Sookie's eyes suddenly opened wide, and she sat up and touched the pocket of her shorts. Pam looked at her quizzically.

“Are you alright? What's in the pocket?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Do you have some of those vibrating panties? I had some of those once. I do love modern technology.”

“No,” Sookie said defensively, shifting in her seat. “Just... wind.”

Pam screwed up her face momentarily before getting back to the matter at hand.

“Look, you are who you are, Sookie. You cannot run away from that. Danger follows you around like a bad smell, and sometimes people are going to get staked or shot or whatever. The important thing is that it's not you, or me, or Eric who dies, and that you always come out on top. You like being on top.” She gave a cheeky wink.

“It's not funny, Pam.”

“You should never feel guilty or think any less of yourself for defeating those who would harm you and those you love.”

“I'm tired of it.”

Pam looked at her human friend almost sympathetically.

“It will not always be this way. And you don't have to like it. The day you don't go 'ew' when you get vampire residue in your cleavage is the day I hang up my filmy black dress. Come on, Sookie, you have more heart and strength than this. You do not want to spend the rest of your life in Merlotte's, fake-smiling your way through your days, pretending to be normal and boring. That is not where you belong.”

“No? So where do I belong?”

Pam smiled and stood from her chair. “He's in the store room,” she said, before walking off.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Eric was busy pretending to do an inventory, clipboard in hand, when Sookie walked in. In actual fact, he'd been leaning against one of the shelving units, drawing what looked like a sort of abstract picture of Thalia slapping a monkey in the face with her own severed arm, while listening to the conversation out in the bar.

He made himself look busy.

“Twenty six, twenty seven, hm-mm.”

“Hey.”

“Twenty eight. _All there_... Hello Sookie.”

He scribbled a note on his sheet.

“I just came to drop something off for Pam. Thought I'd better say hi.”

Eric pretended to write something else down, but actually just scribbled some nonsense.

“Bar's busy again,” Sookie said. “That's good.”

“Yes. Is everything okay in Bon Temps? Is Merlotte's busier?”

“Yeah, it's picking up a bit. And you know that recurring 'Were problem' I had?” Eric nodded at her. “It's not a problem anymore.”

“Oh good. Finally.”

“I know, right?”

They both laughed uncomfortably, and then stood there in silence. Sookie shuffled from foot to foot, and Eric tapped his pen against the clipboard.

“Well,” Sookie said eventually, turning to leave. “I gotta go.”

“Sookie.”

“Hmm?” She quickly turned back around to face him.

“I...”

He looked down at his drawing of Thalia beating a monkey and tried to formulate the words.

“Are you still angry with me?” they both blurted simultaneously.

“No,” they answered as one.

Sookie stepped forward.

“Pam thinks she's getting welts.”

“I know.”

“You didn't call.” 

“I wanted to. I missed you.”

Sookie's lip quivered slightly, and she looked down at her feet.

“Are we still married?” she said carefully. “Are we... do you have to divorce me or something?”

Eric put his clipboard and pen aside.

“Sookie-” He reached forward with his hand, but she pulled back before he could touch her.

“Tell me straight,” she said, curling her hands into fists. Eric wondered if she had in fact decided to punch him, after all. “I need to know what's going on.”

“We are still married,” he said, his voice strong and clear. “I will find a way.”

Sookie looked away dejected, almost defeated.

“No you won't,” she said quietly. “If you were going to, I'm pretty sure it would've happened by now. It's alright, I understand why you've got to do it. You don't have a choice. This might even be good for you, right? Politically?”

He took her by the shoulders.

“I don't care about that. You do not understand how dangerous it would be for you if you were no longer my wife. I wouldn't be able to protect you.”

“I'll be fine.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I cannot take that risk. I will not risk losing you.” He loosened his grip on her and cupped her cheek, stroking with his thumb. “I love you too much to let this happen to us. We figured out a way to overcome Victor. We rid ourselves of my maker. We have fought witches and vampires and Fae and Weres. We are always victorious.” His nostrils flared and his face became hard as stone. He bared his fangs. “This is nothing for us.”

Sookie looked at him for a long moment, and seemed to find some determination. Finally, she stood straighter and prouder, and gave a sharp nod. 

“You're right. I won't give up fighting. I can take on another bitch, anytime. Especially a bitch who thinks she can come and steal my husband.”

Eric took her into his arms and kissed her face all over. Then he lifted her up high and twirled around and around with her until she laughed, and begged to be let down.

“I'm sorry I bit you so hard,” he said, as they held one another. 

“Your arm was partially severed, and you needed the blood.”

“I was angry at you. But yes, my arm was indeed partially severed.”

“You were being a jerk,” Sookie mumbled against his neck. “But I kind of know why.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Yes, if you forgive me.” She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “I'm going to try to stop being such a pussy about everything. I know what I am, and what you are, and I love you. I accept that we do what we have to do to survive, no matter how bloody or violent that might be. It's not often pleasant, and it's not very Christian, but so long as I'm not involved in killing innocent people, and I don't lose myself and what I believe in, then I think I can learn to make my peace with it.”

Eric had never loved her more than he did in that moment. They kissed, there in the store room, among the bar towels and boxes of napkins and crates of TrueBlood. The room smelled like stale beer and mops, but Eric didn't care. He felt whole again. He also felt a sort of warm pulsing sensation emanating from Sookie's shorts.

Before he could investigate further, Pam wandered in, her heels clicking loudly against the tile. 

“Oh look, you're in love again,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “I can already feel my unsightly welts already receding. Did you tell Sookie about the party tomorrow night?”

Eric groaned.

“Pam, will you stop doing this?”

“What party?” Sookie said.

“Oh, the Queen of Oklahoma is visiting,” Pam said, smiling. “We are having a little get together, to welcome her to Louisiana. I for one intend on giving her a very warm welcome, and I'm sure you'd want to be here to do the same, Sookie.”

“I hardly think that's...” Eric began, before raising his hand to his chin, rubbing thoughtfully. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“We really should be preparing for the royal visit,” he said, smirking. “We do need to make the evening extra special.”

“Oh, well, alright then,” Sookie said, backing away from him. “I'll just-”

“No,” he said, taking her hand. “You are the master party planner, my lover. What say we all convene a meeting in my office? I think together we could come up with some wonderful ideas for a very special visit, to make sure the queen really enjoys her time in Shreveport.”

Pam nodded approvingly.

“What an excellent idea.”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

_ **Forbidden Fruits** _

_ **Chapter 22** _

Delia took another large, firm orange from the bowl and squeezed the fruit gently in her hand. The flesh gave way just enough. She hoped this one would yield plenty of juice.

She placed it on the bread board and sliced.

“Delia.”

She turned swiftly, her heart hammering with the shock.

“Michael.”

“I'm... I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were juicing in here.”

“Oh, no, it's... it's fine.”

She turned around again, closed her eyes and tried to gather her courage, her chest heaving with her quickened breaths. She picked up one of the halves of the orange and placed it in the electric juicer. She held her breath as she pressed the button, and the familiar whirring noise of the machine seemed even louder than usual.

A small trickle of orange juice made it's way down the spout and into the cup below. 

_Damn these oranges_. She'd juiced 12 already and still only produced half a cup.

“Are you using the _Homosassa_ variety, darling?” Michael asked. “You should try the _Valencia_ , they're so much juicier.”

Delia beat her fist against the counter top.

“Damn it, Michael. Damn you and your extensive knowledge of citrus fruits. If only you knew me half as well as you do your damn oranges.”

She brushed a lock of hair away from her face with the back of her hand, and smiled ruefully to herself. She knew this was the end, they couldn't go on this way. The lies, the deceit, the fruit and vegetable-based arguments. Just like those _Homosassa_ oranges were unwilling to give up their juice for her, so Michael was unwilling to give up his wife.

“Let me help,” Michael said, suddenly standing beside her. “We can do this together.”

“It's too late,” Delia said, squeezing some discarded peel in her hand. “I tried, Michael, God knows I tried. There's just no more juice to be had from this damned fruit.”

“Here.” Michael opened one of the counter drawers and extracted a hand-held juicer. “Let's have one more try, with this.”

He took one of the halves of fruit in his large, manly hand, those hands that had the ability to bring her so much pleasure. Even now she couldn't help but picture those hands cupping and squeezing her breasts, juicing them like one of his damn juicy _Valencias_. He held the orange over the cup, and pressed the utensil into the soft flesh. The liquid flowed as if from a faucet, streams and streams of delicious juice ran through his fingers.

“You see, my darling?” Michael said. “There is still so much juice to be extracted. You were about to discard all this sweet, delicious fruit, just throw it away. But the juicing has only just begun.”

_Yes, yes, my love. There is indeed so much juice still to be had. And I was about to give up on this wonderful fruit._

Delia felt a single tear trickle down her cheek, and she brushed it away.

“Are you... my darling, are you weeping?”

“No,” Delia said, trying to contain her emotions. “It was when you pressed that juicing utensil into the orange, I got some zest in my eye.”

She dabbed at it again, before turning to face him. She took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, downed the cup of juice in one, and jumped him.

 


	25. Pam's Special Potato Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Dead Reckoning

 

Freyda, the queen of Oklahoma, entered Fangtasia with an entourage of around 12, both vampire and human subjects. She stopped as she entered the bar area, and gave the place the once over. She did not seem incredibly impressed.

“My queen,” Eric said, bowing before her. “Welcome to Shreveport, and to Fangtasia. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

“I hate traveling,” she said with a sigh, while taking off her fur coat and tossing it to one of her minions. “But I did so want to come and visit you in your area. And see your little,” she glanced around again, “club.” 

Eric ignored the rudeness, and guided her to a table. Freyda was what he called an 'old school' monarch. She was several centuries old, had seen and done it all in her time, and had that jaded, sour demeanor that many old, powerful vampires had. She was surrounded by sycophants who constantly complimented and pandered to her, and while outwardly she appeared amenable enough, she was known to impart harsh punishment on those who displeased, or even disagreed with her. Physically speaking, she had a tall, slim, graceful frame, long, straight, light-blonde hair, and there was an ethereal quality to her beauty. 

Eric found her completely tedious.

“I admit,” he said, pulling out a chair for her, “I was surprised that you wanted to come to Shreveport, but overjoyed, of course. It has been too long since I've had the pleasure.”

“Well, I hardly saw you at all during the last summit, and before that, well, I can't remember how long ago it was.”

Eric took a seat beside her. Some of her minions sat down close by, and others remained standing around her.

“It was probably that time Sophie-Anne had that 70's roller disco at her palace.”

“Oh yes!” Freyda said, leaning over to touch his knee. “Do you remember? Andre wore that huge afro, and people kept hiding things in it. And that sheriff, whatshisname...”

“Trevor.”

“Trevor, that's it! He couldn't skate and fell over and split the crotch of his white, satin flares.”

“He came as a Bee Gee, I think. Probably Maurice.”

“It was a great party.”

“Indeed.”

They smiled at each other, and Eric thought he glimpsed a sort of coyness in her eyes. Drinks were brought to the table, and he took a large swig of blood.

“I wanted to see you,” Freyda said quietly. “There are preparations to make before our ceremony, and, well, I thought it would be an opportunity for us to spend some time together, away from my usual royal duties.”

“Excellent,” Eric said, giving her his sexy lopsided smirk.

“You might have wondered why Appius and I agreed to make the marriage contract. Did he explain, before he met his tragic, tree-felling-related final death?”

“I found out very little.”

“I've been looking for suitable marriage material for some time,” she said, sipping on her martini glass full of B negative. “I've gone too long without being remarried. A queen should have a king, after all. Appius called one day to tell me that he had the ideal husband for me.”

“Really?” Eric balled his fist up tightly under the table. “He was such a thoughtful maker.”

“When he suggested you, I thought, of course! Eric Northman! Tall, blonde and handsome, from good stock. And Scandinavian, like me! He drove a hard bargain, I have to admit, but I could not be happier with the outcome. You have been a sheriff in the back of nowhere for too long, Eric. Your talents are wasted here.”

Eric gave her the most charming smile he was able to muster. He knew that all the queen really wanted was a strong, vampire bodyguard for protection, and perhaps to offer some occasional strategic advice. Of course, she also wanted a piece of his hot ass. He would have no power, and be little more than a performing lapdog with fantastic abs.

“You flatter me, my queen.”

“I do, don't I?” she said, smiling. “So you are not sorry to be leaving all this?” she gestured with a dainty hand.

“Not at all.” 

“There is nothing you will miss? I had heard that you had become rather attached to a human. Pledged, in fact.”

Eric couldn't help but glance out of the corner of his eye in the direction of Sookie, who was sitting over at the bar. She seemed to be ingesting large quantities of gin.

“Only business, your majesty.”

“Of course. You will be severing all ties with her?”

“Absolutely.”

“She is a telepath, isn't she? That is very rare, and useful. Will you not bring her to work in my queendom?”

“I'm afraid she has already been contracted to remain in Louisiana, and work for our king, Felipe de Castro. She will be his, as soon as we are married.”

Even though Eric knew this was never going to happen, since he and Freyda were never actually going to get married, merely stating that Sookie was to be someone else's filled him with a combination of rage and terror. 

“Hmm.” The queen looked angry for a moment, before composing herself. “Well, it's probably for the best. I don't tolerate idle gossip.”

Indira appeared, shuffling up to the table.

“Your majesty,” she said, bowing deeply, then kneeling before the queen. “Please accept this small token as a gesture of my loyalty and congratulations on your forthcoming nuptials to my sheriff.” She lifted her cupped hands, offering the gift.

“Oh, lovely. What is it?” Freyda said, looking unsure. “Is that some sort of rock?”

“I carved a potato into your likeness, your highness.”

“Indira is very skilled in the art of vegetable carving,” Eric told her. “She specializes in portraiture. It is a skill handed down from maker to maker, within her lineage.”

Freyda smiled uncertainly, before delicately plucking the potato from the small vampire's hands. Indira rose and bowed again, even more deeply this time.

“You honor me, my queen.”

Freyda turned the potato around and looked at it curiously. 

“Oh will you look at that,” Eric said, leaning across to get a better look. “Excellent work, Indira. Excellent work.”

There was a knobbly bit to the potato which she had used to form the nose, and into it she'd carved a couple of large nostrils. She'd sliced out a smiley mouth, attempted some teeth, and pinned two pimento olives on for the eyes.

“Thank you,” Fredya said, unsure what to do with her gift. “That's very kind.”

“Shall I keep it safe for you, your highness, until you leave?”

“Yes,” Freyda said, handing it back. “That would be very helpful.”

Indira took it back, bowing again. She gave a brief nod to Eric, and wandered off.

“It seems that Indira is quite artistically inspired by your delicate grace. I would not be surprised if she gifted you with many more of her wonderful sculptures. I hope you don't feel that she's overstepping the mark.”

“I'm quite touched, actually,” Freyda said, dabbing at the corner of her eye. Eric gave a brief ' _what the fuck?_ ' face, before quickly smiling again.

“Well, I am so pleased that you approve of her artistic talents, and her medium.”

The queen composed herself.

“So, ah, tell me Eric, what do you plan on doing with the bar when you change states?”

“Oh, I'll just sell it,” Eric smiled. “I will have no interest in coming back to visit, and would prefer to sever all ties with Louisiana. I have to say, I've become quite tired of Shreveport. I'm incredibly excited to be moving away.” He reached across and took her hand, before lifting her fingers to his lips, kissing gently. “I doubt I'll ever want to be parted from you again,” he said, smiling at her.

“I think you will like Oklahoma,” Freyda said, returning the smile.

“I'm sure I will,” he said, looking her over seductively. “In fact, I cannot wait to be in Oklahoma.”

She leaned closer to him. “I can barely wait for us to be alone,” she whispered. “My body is aching for you.”

Eric opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly Pam was in front of them. She was wearing a blue and white, checked cowgirl dress, and some cowboy boots. Once she had their attention, she launched into some fancy line dancing moves, and began to sing. 

“ _Oooooooo-klahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain_...”

“Pam.”

“ _And the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet..._ ”

Eric shook his head slightly and rubbed at his forehead.

“Pam.”

“ _Oooooooo-klahoma..._ ”

“Pam! Not now.”

“But I learned all the words. I have a dance prepared, and a section where I do twirling. There is some lassoing at the end.”

“Maybe later. You haven't yet greeted the queen.”

“I was greeting her, just then. _Ooooooo-klahoma_ -”

“Stop that. Do it properly.”

He turned to Freyda and gave her a 'sorry' face, and rolled his eyes.

“Kids. She is quite the performer.”

Pam crossed her arms and looked away.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

“Pam,” Eric said, firmly. “You are embarrassing me.”

“Your highness,” Pam said, putting on an overly sweet, high-pitched voice. She did a curtsy and batted her eyelashes. “Welcome to Shreveport. I'm _soooo_ happy that you're to be married to my maker, and that we're to move to _Ooooooo-klahoma where the wind comes_....”

“Pamela!”

Pam stopped singing and smiled sweetly again.

“We've prepared some entertainment for you, your majesty.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“Lights!”

The lights went down, and some seductive music came on. At the back of the stage a curtain twitched, and Bill was pushed out. He tried to get back behind the curtain, but was pushed forward again.

He looked out over the audience with a disgruntled pout. He was wearing nothing but a small, spangly, gold bikini top and matching thong.

Someone shouted “ _Whoo! Yeah baby!_ ” and a couple of other people clapped and whistled. When someone shouted “ _Dance, sweet thing!_ ” Bill began to move awkwardly.

“Enjoy,” Pam said to the queen, before turning to Eric. “I love you Daddy.” She bent to kiss him on the cheek.

“And I you. You are such a good, sweet child.” He stroked some hair back from her face, and pinched at her chin. “So very sweet.”

Pam smiled again and wandered off, looking happy with herself. The queen turned back to watch Bill, who was now working the pole. He was sort of rubbing his bottom cheeks up and down the pole, like a dog with worms scratching itself against a tree. Freyda watched with a look of astonishment and confusion.

“I do apologize for that little performance from Pam,” Eric said, leaning over. “She's not usually that insolent. I think she might be slightly jealous of you.”

“She is your only child?” Freyda asked hopefully, still unable to draw her eyes away from the stage. “You have very unusual dancers here.”

“Bill is very popular. I have one other child, who went her own way and I've not had contact with for many years. Pam and I, on the other hand, are quite inseparable.”

“Well that's... wonderful,” she said, turning to Eric. “And your male exotic dancer, he's very interesting. It's very progressive of you to have male vampires dancing as well as human females. No doubt he attracts lots of business to the bar.”

“Progressive?” Eric said, confused. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Pam. She, er, calls you Daddy?”

“Oh, yes.” Eric laughed and looked embarrassed. “She has a fierce reputation, but is really very loving. She and I still have a very close bond. I will have to bring her with me to Oklahoma, of course. I really couldn't bear to be without my sweet little Pam Pam.”

Freyda pulled a face, and looked to her minion beside her. He just shrugged.

“I see.”

Someone outside let out an ear-piercing scream. Suddenly, tourists and fang bangers were shouting and running in various directions. The cause of the commotion became evident when Felipe entered the bar, riding a large Bengal tiger. He waved a gloved hand at the patrons and vampires as the huge cat padded its way through towards Eric and the queen. The lights went up, and Bill took the opportunity to go scurry off and hide backstage.

“Hello. Hello, yes, nice bowing, yes. Very good. Hello.”

“Felipe!” Eric stood and bowed. “I wasn't expecting you this evening. But how kind of you to visit.”

The king dismounted and he and Freyda did some air-kissing.

“Does your cat need refreshment, your highness?” Eric asked. “Some kibble? Some milk, perhaps?”

“No, no thank you, sheriff. He ate earlier, and milk gives him the runs. I think perhaps he is lactose intolerant. He emits terrible smells whenever he has dairy.”

The tiger growled and made a sort of disgruntled snorting noise. Felipe tapped him on the nose with his gloves.

“Come now, Quinn. No growling. Very rude.”

Quinn found a spot underneath a nearby table and curled up for a nap. 

One of the human waitresses came over and handed Eric the phone, and he excused himself to take the call in his office. Felipe took a seat beside the queen.

“So, Oklahoma,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “You like Eric, huh?”

“Well, yes, I-”

“I'm sure you do,” Felipe interrupted. “He has a reputation for being quite a magnificent lover, but I think it is only right that I should tell you the truth.”

“Oh.”

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Eric entered his office and immediately went to the closet. As soon as he opened the door, he was dragged inside. He shut the closet door behind him, and tugged on the little string that switched on the small light in there. He looked down at Sookie.

“You called?”

“We're you just flirting with her?” she said, poking him in the chest.

“What?”

“You were flirting with the queen. You were all _'oo, I can't wait to go to Oklahoma and have lots of sex with you'_.”

Eric cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“Hmm. Jealous, are you?”

“No. I think you're just going overboard with the acting, is all. It's sort of hammy. Like, um... Gary Oldman in Dracula.”

“I like Gary Oldman.”

“There's no need for you to touch her so much.”

“He is a brilliant actor. So very versatile, and passionate.”

“Look, whatever. Point is, you're all over her like a rash.”

“The point is, my love, that I'm supposed to be all over her like a rash. And if I remember correctly, this was your bright idea. Your plans are always ingenious, and they always work. You are quite...” He paused to lean down and kiss her. “Quite talented. I think that it's fair to say you have more talents than the queen has ever managed to amass, in all her years. You are my beautiful, talented wife.” He kissed her again, and his fingers delicately brushed down her bare arm, his touch making her shiver. “And as you know, for me, there is absolutely no other.”

Sookie reached around to squeeze his butt with both hands, before sliding a palm down the front of his pants.

“Oh, I'll show you talent, Viking.”

Eric kissed her long and hard, while Sookie began fumbling with his belt.

“Sookie...”

“Say something in Swedish.”

“What?”

“Talk to me in Swedish,” Sookie mumbled, breathing heavily. “It helps things along. Let's make it real quick, I hadn't factored this into our plan timetable.”

“Min långbåt är redo att lägga till i din hamn, älskling.” 

“More. Make it sound dirtier.”

“Jag kommer att stöta så kraftigt,” Eric growled. “Jag hoppas att ditt yahoo palats är redo.” 

Suddenly, the closet door was flung open . Sookie squealed.

“She's not falling for any of it,” Pam said. “We might need to stake a bitch. Oh, and this,” she flapped a limp hand in their general direction, “isn't helping.”

“Felipe told her Eric's impotent?” Sookie said, still breathing heavily.

“She doesn't believe him.”

“Well, of course she doesn't,” Eric said, adjusting himself and zipping up. “We knew that was never going to work.”

“She actually seemed mesmerized by Bill's dancing,” Pam said, with a shake of her head, “and was flattered by Indira's potato sculpture. Naturally, she enjoyed my performance of _Oklahoma_ , even though you cut me short. We're just not being weird enough.”

“It was a long shot that she'd be so easily put off,” Sookie said. “So now we move on to phase two of operation _'pomme de terre'_.”

“Land apple? What is operation land apple?”

“Potato, Pam. Don't pretend like you don't know the French for potato, I know you do.”

“Do we still have spare time for closet sex?” Eric asked, hopefully.

“Nope. And no bitch-staking, Pam. Let's keep it clean. You guys ready?”

Pam and Eric both sighed and rolled their eyes.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Then let's finish this.”

Eric and Pam went back out into the bar. Freyda and Felipe were still deep in conversation.

“Sorry,” Eric said, sitting down again. “I just had some important business to take care of.”

“I'm glad you're back, Eric,” Felipe said. “The conversation was beginning to get a little _limp_.”

“Eric made you a 'welcome to Fangtasia' sign, your majesty,” Pam smiled. “But you _couldn't get it up,_ could you, Eric?”

Felipe brought his hand to his mouth and tried to contain his chuckle.

“Well, yes, I did have a special sign made,” Eric said. “It was just more difficult to erect than I had imagined. I could have got it up though.” Pam and Felipe held back their laughter. “Someone stole our ladders but I could have hovered. I needed some large pins to keep it up, but ran out of time and couldn't get to the hardware store.”

He looked to the queen, who gave him an uncertain smile.

“Felipe,” Freyda said seriously. “You really can stop all of this pretense about Eric being a terrible lover. His reputation is world famous.”

Eric nodded, and flicked his hair back nonchalantly.

“Not as famous as mine, though, Oklahoma,” the king said, flashing her a smile.

“Pfft,” Freyda snorted, and smiled at Felipe. “I have no idea what _you're_ talking about.”

Sookie made a loud coughing noise, which almost covered the squishing sound as Pam squashed the potato sculpture of the queen beneath her pump. She continued to mash it up until it was all a pulpy mess.

“Although...” the queen said, suddenly looking at him dreamily. “You are rather... handsome.”

“I am? Yes, I am. Like Antonio Banderas, only a bit shorter and with tiny bits of facial hair.”

“I never really... noticed before...”

She suddenly flung herself at the king, wrapping herself around him like a huge, horny barnacle, and began kissing him frantically. Felipe put up no resistance.

Eric looked over at the bar, where Sookie was sitting. She raised her glass of gin and tonic at him and flashed him a smile. He looked over at Pam, who made a staking gesture with her hand. He shook his head discreetly.

People began to get uncomfortable, as the king and queen continued their frenzied make out session. Eric cleared his throat to get their attention, and Freyda managed to tear herself away. Felipe was sporting a goofy grin and a face covered in red lipstick.

“All this time you have been the one,” the queen said, looking lovingly into his eyes. “How did I never notice how incredibly gorgeous and perfect you were before, Felipe?”

The king shrugged his shoulders.

“I have no idea.”

“Would you... would you consider marrying me?”

“Well, I would, of course,” Felipe said. “But, you are already contracted to marry my sheriff here.”

“Eric,” Freyda said. “The contract is void. I'm sorry, but you are just not as handsome, rich and powerful as Felipe. And he does look a lot like Antonio Banderas. He has stolen my heart.”

Her minions looked at one another with puzzled faces.

“If it pleases you, my queen,” Eric said, with a bow.

Felipe mounted up on Quinn, and Freyda hopped on too.

“So long, suckers!” Felipe shouted as they rode out, their minions in tow. The last of the patrons exited along with them, as they tried to avoid the huge tiger.

“Well, that was much easier than I expected,” Pam said. “Bill didn't even have to get fully naked.”

“Thank the Gods,” Eric said. He smiled at Sookie, took her by the hand, and pulled her in close for a long, lingering kiss. 

“I think you rather enjoyed your time on the pole, Bill,” Pam said. “You like the feel of it, don't you? That spangly thong.”

Bill pouted.

“I would do anything to redeem myself in Sookie's-”

Pam let out an incredibly loud fake yawn, the noise of it overpowering the rest of Bill's sentence.

“Sookie's-”

Pam got right in his face and yawned even more loudly and obnoxiously. Bill turned his face to the side and stepped back.

“ _Aaaaaaaaarrrrrhhhhhmmmmm!_ Oh. It's been such a long evening, and you are so amazingly dull, that I appear to have re-developed my ability to yawn.”

Bill pouted some more, his lip-pursing more pronounced this time. 

“I thought you did really good with the dancing, Bill,” Sookie said, pulling away from Eric. “And the color of that bikini really suits you.”

Bill tugged at the material covering his moobs.

“Thank you, Sookie.”

“Yeah, you were a real peach,” Pam said. “Shaking your money-maker. Although I don't really see what the point of that part of the plan was, Sookie.”

“It was a distraction,” Sookie said. “While Indira prepared the potato.”

“The potato?” Bill said. 

“See, Pam still had Hallow's spell book, she never got rid of it, because there were some useful spells in there, right Pam?”

“Even though I specifically told her to burn it,” Eric said, looking at his child. “I believe it was a direct order and I commanded you to do so.”

“You did not specify _when_ I had to burn it. I was planning on burning it in a year or so, when I'd finished with it. There are some very useful spells in there. There's one for hair removal, and another for locating misplaced earrings.”

Maxwell Lee popped his head around a door.

“How about missing cufflinks?”

“No! Just earrings,” Pam said. Maxwell went back to whatever he was doing before, crunching some numbers or making up some formulas for his spreadsheet or whatever.

“And we used a love spell,” Sookie said. “I remembered seeing it in there when me and Pam were looking for a spell to make our hair more lustrous and bouncy.”

“So useful,” Eric mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever. Anyway, the love spell had to be contained within an item which had been touched by the person on whom we were working it, hence the potato. Organic items hold spells better, or something like that. We had to make it in her likeness, and Indira had to do the chant from the book over it, right Indira?”

“Goddess of the heart,” Indira repeated, “send your powers from above. When this totem is destroyed, Freyda will see her love.”

“Pam crushed the potato at just the right moment, when the queen was looking at Felipe. And it worked!” Sookie did a little happy dance.

“And Felipe knew about this?” Bill said. “He actually agreed to it?”

“Absolutely,” Eric said. “He did not want to lose me to Oklahoma, since I am the only sheriff who ever gets shit done. Plus after they are married he will also have her state, then no doubt he will soon pull some kind of plan to get rid of her, so he can have it all for himself. He is very greedy like that.”

“Well done everyone,” Pam said. “Another disaster averted. Indira, clean up that mashed potato. Bill, put on some clothes, will you? Where are all the staff? There's cleaning up to be done in here! I think Quinn had an accident under that table.”

Everyone set about tidying up or getting changed. Eric turned to Sookie. He looked down at her, and placed a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up.

“No more marriage contract, no more Victor, no more fighting. Could it possibly be that we finally have a chance for some happiness? Perhaps we could have a full conversation for once.”

Sookie thought about it.

“Well, there's still lots of strange fairy crap going on, and I keep seeing Mr. Cataliades running through my woods being chased by something weird. Oh, and I thought I felt a strange presence on my porch last night. And that portal that makes greedy chomping noises when I dump stuff in it-”

He placed his finger over Sookie's lips.

“Shh.”

“But I-”

“Zzzzp.”

He kissed her, before she had a chance to say anything more.

All that could wait for another evening. Although he really would have to give her some pointers about responsible garbage disposal.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

After the club had closed, Sookie went to retrieve her purse from Eric's office. Pam was in there, having changed out of her cowgirl outfit, and she was brushing her hair.

“Do you think Eric would've liked to be married to Freyda?” Sookie asked. “She was pretty, and, you know, she's a queen and all.”

Pam rolled her eyes.

“Don't be an idiot. She is very annoying. Eric doesn't want all that fancy, monarchy crap, anyway. He wants you. His _lo-verrrrr_.” She stuffed her fingers down her throat and made a retching noise.

“Bitch. But me and him, we've only got a few years together, I mean, you know, in the vampire sense of time.” 

“Well then that's easy, you're turned. Problem solved.”

“But I don't want that,” Sookie whined. She touched her belt. “If only there was another way.”

“What's wrong?” Pam said, looking at how Sookie was rubbing her stomach. “Do you have wind again? Honestly, Sookie, you need to do something about that.”

“No,” Sookie said defensively. “It's just my, er, powder compact. I keep it under my belt and I was just checking it was still there.”

Pam looked at her friend curiously.

“Oh. Well let's have a look, then. My nose is quite shiny.”

“It's not,” Sookie said, shaking her head.

“It is. I can feel it, glowing, like a big shiny light bulb on my face. Give it to me.”

“Your nose never gets shiny. It's fine.”

Pam sighed and rolled her eyes, then held her hand out.

“I want to check. Come on, don't be a grouch.”

“It doesn't work.”

“What?”

“There's no mirror.”

“No mirror? Well, there's a big mirror here, on the back of the closet door. Come on.”

“My powder's too dark for you.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“I can't open it, either. It's broken.”

“Sookie, this is the worst compact I ever heard of. Let me see.”

“I-”

“Will you just do it? Honestly, this is like getting blood out of a stone.”

“Didn't you once drink blood out of a Rolling Stone?”

“No,” Pam sighed. “I once nearly drained a member of Sly and the Family Stone. Stop distracting me. Hand it over.”

“Why do you want it so bad?”

“Because you are being so stubborn and annoying. Give it to me.”

Pam held her hand out and waggled her fingers impatiently. With some reluctance, Sookie slowly slipped her fingers beneath her belt. She kept her fingers there for a moment, then extracted the cluviel dor. She caressed it briefly, before carefully holding it out to Pam.

“Finally,” Pam sighed, taking it from her. “Did you like what I dressed Bill in tonight?” she asked, while she struggled with the catch. “I thought he looked just divine.” She let out an evil laugh.

“See, it doesn't open properly.” Sookie went to grab it, but Pam snatched her hand away.

“I'll do it. I think he actually enjoyed being an exotic dancer for the evening. He's such an idiot, it's almost embarrassing. Really, I wish Bill would grow some.”

There was a little popping noise as the cluviel dor opened, and Pam's face was bathed in a warm, bright light.

“Wait!”

“Sookie, you're right, there's no mirror in here, or any powder. It's just like some sort of weird torch.”

“Oh Pam!”

“What?”

“You opened my goddamn cluviel dor! How did you even do that?” She snatched it out of Pam's hands.

“Cloovoolwhatwhat? Talk sensibly, Sookie. You're babbling. You should cut back on the gin.”

“Dor! Cluviel dor. What was it you said when you opened it? Did you wish for something?”

“I said I wished Bill would grow some.”

“Some what?”

“I don't know, nuts I suppose.” Pam smirked. “In my mind I was picturing him with a couple of large, hairy coconuts swaying betwixt his legs as he walked. Gently clattering together like the sound of horses' hooves down a country lane. Did I ever tell you I had a pony when I was human, Sookie?” She smiled as she reminisced. “I called her Dandelion.” 

“Er, Pam... I'm just gonna check what's going on out in the bar.”

“Such a sweet little mare. Alright then, Sookie.”

Sookie quickly made her way out into the bar area. Eric and Bill were sitting together in the corner.

“So Bill,” Eric was saying. “Did Sookie ever give any parts of your anatomy a nickname?”

“Hmm? I'm sorry, what?”

“Your penis, for example. Did Sookie ever give it a pet name? The Ingracious Deficiency, or the Meager Inadequacy? Worthless Scarcity?”

Bill gave a confused look.

“No, not that I am aware of. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Eric smirked. “That thong left very little to the imagination. As your sheriff, I am ordering you to never wear such a skimpy ensemble ever again, while you remain in my area.”

“Actually I...” Bill shifted his chair back and looked down at himself. “Something is...”

“Er, Bill, are you okay?” Sookie asked, standing over him. Bill rose from his seat and revealed two large, round bulges beneath his slacks.

“What the?” Eric said, shocked. “Those weren't there earlier.”

“Dammit, Pam!” Sookie groaned.

“What?” Pam said, suddenly appearing behind her. “What did I do?”

Bill poked at himself, before pulling at his waistband and looking down his pants. He made a sort of scared choking noise.

“It's-”

“What? What's happened down there, Bill?” Sookie said. “Is it bad?”

“Co-coconuts,” he whispered.

“Oh Lord,” Sookie said, turning to Eric. “Pam opened my cluviel dor and wished Bill would grow some nuts. Looks like it worked.”

Eric shook his head at her, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Cloovyool what?”

“Babbling again!” Pam moaned.

“It's a fairy love token thing of my Gran's! It grants you a wish! I was hoping to use it for something a bit more worthwhile. All those years it was hidden away, waiting to be used for something good. Ends up granting a wish to turn my ex's bits into coconuts. Thanks, Pam.”

“How was I to know? You said it was a powder compact! And by the way my nose is still shiny.”

“Excuse me, everyone,” Bill said, some little bloody tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. “Can we all just focus on the fact that my testicles have been replaced with coconuts?!” 

“Yes,” Pam said, smiling. “Let's.”

They all stared at the two large bulges for a moment, before bursting into laughter. Maxwell Lee even popped his head around the door again to have a chuckle at Bill's expense. Bill was making strange gasping noises.

“Maybe we could find another cluviel dor to wish them away again,” Sookie said, trying to make Bill feel better. “Or you could find a spell in Hallow's book, Pam.”

“Or I could make you a pina colada,” Pam smiled.

Eric laughed, and Sookie elbowed him in the shoulder, and clamped her lips together to keep her own giggles in.

“I'm sure we can do something,” Eric said. “It might take a while, though. You should probably find some good supportive underwear in the meantime.”

“Well, I guess it's one less problem for me to think about,” Sookie said, perching on Eric's knee. “I've been losing sleep over what to do with that cluviel dor for days.”

“If I'd known I was getting a real wish,” Pam said, “I would have imagined hazelnuts instead of coconuts.”

“No you wouldn't,” Eric said. “You would have wished for infinite shoes. Why would you have wasted a real wish on Bill's completely insignificant balls when you could have had mountains of designer footwear?”

Bill turned and ran off in the direction of the restroom, his coconuts clattering together as he ran.

“Oh, my dear Dandelion!” Pam said. “Eric, can I have a pony? I want a pony.”

Eric smiled at his child, and kissed Sookie on the cheek. His lips lingered on her soft skin, and he closed his eyes as he breathed her in. The tension fell from his body, and a sudden, delightful warmth filled his heart. Everything was right in his little corner of Louisiana. He felt like the luckiest vampire in the world.

“Let's go home,” Sookie whispered to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling his cheek. “I could really do with some back-porch monkey-sex, if you're in the mood.”

“Perfect,” Eric said. “ _Just perfect_.”

  


The End.


End file.
